LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. -?* 5 Chap. Copyright No. Shelf__„„__. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. TENNYSON'S THE PRINCESS WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND ANALYTIC QUESTIONS L. A. SHERMAN Professor of English Literature in the University of Nebraska NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY IQOO TWO COPIES RECEIVED, Library of C6isgrei% Office of the MAY1-190U Kegltter of Copyright* SECOND COPY, ^-g> )fc &*** 'fi '?<% T KS5 Copyright, 1900, BV HENRY HOLT & CO. ROBERT DRUMMOND, PRINTER, NEW YORK. PREFACE The purpose of this edition of The Princess is not to repeat the labors of former editors, but to assist and as far as possible ensure first-hand knowledge and appropria- tion of the work. It is no small accomplishment to have read The Princess discerningly and thoroughly; and recent efforts to popularize the poem have apparently not resulted in commending it or its author to wider favor. To force unappreciative study of a work like The Princess defeats culture, and weakens the influence and following of all good literature. Correct instruction should achieve the opposite of all such conclusions. Indeed, the future of taste for letters in this country depends largely upon the outcome of present attempts to administer English master- pieces in our academies and schools. The present manual has been prepared in the hope of contributing to the effectiveness of this work, and especially by communicat- ing the chief artistic meanings of The Princess without directly affirming them. It would seem pedagogically wrong to tell pupils gratuitously, except here and there as a clue, what they may be put in circumstances to find out for themselves. As a means of such independent study, question outlines, of the kind used in the editor's Macbeth, are kept under the eye of the student in connec- tion with the Notes. iii IV PREFACE Tennyson possessed the gift of interpretative expression, though he seemed scarcely to understand what could be wrought with it, or what was the lack without it. He soberly preserved from the flames poems, — regrettably perpetuated in the Memoir, which he apparently believed to involve some sort of merit, but which are manifestly little better than doggerel. Some help has been essayed towards enabling the reader to find the author's best tech- nique, and to distinguish it from perfunctory and unin- spired diction. I have attempted to make Tennyson's punctuation, which in different parts of the poem greatly varies, uniform ; particularly to avoid showing to American pupils deviations that they are not, at least in student years, to imitate. The spelling of the text is made con- sistent, as also the elision of final -ed syllables. The Notes do not contemplate exhaustive study of the author's language, but are adapted rather to the needs of secondary classes. Pupils will not generally drudge over the sense of literature that does not charm, or even look up uncer- tain references without compulsion. To aid the learner until he is reached by the message of the poem, dictionary meanings have sometimes not been excluded. The Notes, moreover, are not of a kind convenient or proper to be memorized, but are intended to suggest to the student how to find interpretative equivalents or values for him- self. I have endeavored to use as far as possible the work of other editors, and to acknowledge where traceable the source of every aid. L. A. Sherman. Lincoln, Nebraska, January 30, 1900. CONTENTS PAGE INTRODUCTION Tennyson's Poetic Diction viii Prose Poetry, or Verse i x Imaginative or Interpretative Composition. . . . xi Materials of Literature , xiv Modes of Presentation xi* The Highest Poetical Diction xxvi Interpretation in Kind and Degree by Figures . . xxxi Highest Literary Values • . xliii Conceits, Marinlsm, and Phrasing . li Suggestions for the Study of the Poem lvii Bibliography of Helps . Txi THE PRINCESS Prologue 1 Canto I. 9 Canto II l 7 Canto III 32 Canto IV 44 Canto V 62 Canto VI 8o Canto VII 92 Conclusion io 3 NOTES AND QUESTIONS 109 INDEX TO NOTES 181 v INTRODUCTION Tennyson's poem of The Princess was published in 1847. The author wrote it in the heart of London, and had at that time reached the age of thirty-eight. A work of such knightly purpose, and such patient and elaborate execution, could hardly have been inspired, one might suspect, except from something beyond the general interest of the theme. Tennyson, as we know from his son's Memoir, had as early as 1836 become acquainted with Emily Sellwood, and in 1839 discussed with her the plan of the poem that was to be. In the year following, on account of the poet's insufficient prospects, the lovers had been forbidden to hold communication with each other. The Princess was written when Tennyson was look- ing forward to a renewal of betrothal relations with Miss Sellwood. They were married in 1850, after In Memoriam had established its author's literary and social future. "The Princess contains Tennyson's solution of the problem of the true position of woman in society — a pro- found and vital question, upon the solution of which the future of civilization depends. But at the time of its publication, the surface thought of England was intent solely upon Irish famines, corn-laws, and free-trade. It was only after many years that it became conscious of anything wrong in the position of women. The idea was v 1 1 1 INTR OD UCTION not relegated to America, but originated there in the sweet visions of New England transcendentalists; and, long after, began in Old England to take practical shape in various ways, notably in collegiate education for females. No doubt such ideas were at the time ' in the air ' in England, but the dominant practical Philistinism scoffed at them as ideas ' banished to America, that refuge for exploded European absurdities. ' To these formless ideas Tennyson, in 1847, gave form, and with poetic instinct, discerning the truth, he clothed it with surpassing beauty." ' So far as the poem was intended to serve an immediate purpose of this kind it may be considered to have fulfilled its mission. Few readers, at least on this side of the Atlantic, would regard its main teachings as greatly exceed- ing the standard of the trite. We seem, indeed, in this country to have gone somewhat beyond what the author postulated : we have accomplished the higher education of woman, on a scale equal with man's, — much as his Princess dreamed, yet with no least detriment to her womanliness. But to the literary reader the poem has not lost its charm. If its ultimate meanings are no longer edifying, the artistic forms in which they have been declared to the world will be a delight forever. The Princess is the fullest expression of Tennyson's poetic genius, and exhibits, in a more consistent and sustained fashion than any other work, his peculiar inspiration as a poet. But to discern the beauty of the poem the unpre- pared student must go into training. Those who read poetry merely for the story, or like nothing better than 1 Dawson's Study, pp. 9, 10. INTROD UCT10N IX the most straightforward poetic diction, are apt to find The Princess tedious. Moreover, people very generally assume that poetry is merely verse, or made up of ornate or high-sounding circumlocutions. They are sometimes taught that prose is the original, fundamental, and solely legitimate form of expression, and that poetry is an expansion, chiefly verbal, of prose meanings. It will be necessary, first, that the reader become better advised upon certain points. I. // is possible to cast common prose meanings into perfect metric form. The product in each case will not be poetry in the true sense, but versified prose, prose-poetry merely. Among a great number of possible examples the following might be ventured : — It rained this afternoon for quite a while. I have not seen him since he was a boy. I knew no reason why her eyesight failed. The days have grown so very long of late, Street lamps are lighted now at half-past eight. The first test to which verse of high pretensions should be subjected is the test of major rhythm. In heroic couplets and blank-verse lines, like the ones pioposed, the supporting stress of the sense should occur on the fourth, the eighth, and the tenth, or else the sixth and the tenth, syllable. We find the lines in question correct and normal in this regard ; the sense-stress conforms to the scheme of four-eight-ten in 11. 2, 3, and of six-ten in the others. Moreover, the examples are good in meter and other respects of form. But the effect, in spite of all, is X INTROD UCTION by no means edifying. We naturally doubt whether lines so bald, so barren of aesthetic quality, could ever find their way into permanent literature. However, a little inspec- tion will show that Chaucer abounds in such. Milton, with all his dignity, is not above admitting the like upon occasion. Shakespeare indubitably writes lines here and there not more select. Wordsworth tolerates them in theory and practice alike. Tennyson even, pronounced finical and effeminate at times, by some critics, for nicety of diction, has many prose-poetic lines and indeed passages, as these examples show : — I waited for the train at Coventry. We will be liberal since our rights are won. But as for her, she stay'd at home, And on the roof she went, And down the way you use to come She look'd with discontent. She left the novel half-uncut Upon the rosewood shelf ; She left the new piano shut : She could not please herself. Well, you shall have that song which Leonard wrote : It was last summer on a tour in Wales : Old Jones was with me. I'm glad I walk'd. How fresh the meadows look Above the river, and, but a month ago, The whole hill-side was redder than a fox. Is yon plantation where this byway joins The turnpike ? Yes. And when does this come by? The mail ? At one o'clock. INTROD UCTION XI It will be interesting to contrast the poetic and prosaic expressions in a couple of continuous passages, which shall be the opening paragraphs of Tennyson's Princess, and Holy Grail. Prosaic matter is italicized. Sir Walter Vivia?i all a summer's day Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun Up to the people ; thither flock' d at noon His tenants, wife, and child, and thither half The neighboring borough with their Ijistitute Of which he was the patron. I was there Prom college, visiting the son, — the son A Walter too, — with others of our set, Five others ; we were seven at Vivian-place. From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done In tournament or tilt, Sir Percival, Whom Arthur and his knighthood call'd The Pure, Had pass'd into the silent life of prayer, Praise, fast, and alms ; and leaving for the cowl The helmet in an abbey far away From Camelot, there, and not long after, died. II. There are no meanings so prosaic as not to admit of being couched poetically, or in such a way as to address imagination, and give some degree of pleasure. Tennyson opens the first canto of his Princess with a brief paragraph which, with the last line altered, runs as follows : A Prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, Of temper amorous, as the first of May, With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl ; For I had had my birthplace in the North. Xll INTROD UCTION The prose meaning to be told in the fourth line is simply, I was born in the North. Tennyson, evidently wishing to occasion some incidental delight to the reader's mind, manages to give the line quite an imaginative turn by casting it in this form : — For on my cradle shone the Northern star. A little later Tennyson makes the Prince tell of setting out secretly, within a fortnight of his repulse, for the home of the Princess. The allusion to this small interval of waiting might, one could suppose, have been well enough expressed in this way : — Then, ere two weeks had passed, I stole from court. But what Tennyson really makes his love-sick hero say, to make known this baldest of prose circumstances, is nothing less (I. ioo, 101) than this: — Then, ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield, I stole from court. In Canto IV., where the narrative reaches the collapse of the Prince's scheme, another notable illustration occurs. The Prince, having rescued the Princess from drowning, and scaled the palace gates, walks up and down the esplanade some two hours or more. Tennyson makes him measure to us this lapse of time, not in denomina- tions of the clock, but of imagination and of the feelings (IV. 194, 195), thus:— I paced the terrace, //// the Bear had wheeled Through a great arc his seven slow suns. There are numberless examples of the same thing, in lines and parts of lines, throughout The Princess and other specimens of Tennyson's most careful work. There INTROD UCTION Xlll are illustrations rather neater and perhaps more numerous in Mrs. Browning. Shakespeare, and Milton, and Vergil, we shall remember, are adepts in the same craftmanship. For more thorough-going evincements, it will be enough to try some rhetorical experiments with the prose-poetic examples ventured under the last head. If a way can be found to indite such utterances cdifyingly, the utmost consequences of the principle laid down must be allowed. Nothing surely could seem more hopelessly unaesthetic, or more irremediably barren of spiritual meaning, than a sentence like It rained this afternoon for quite a while. But, understanding the line to have had reference, as is true, to a shower in a certain city, where the storm sewers drain the surface water of twenty-four square miles, and bring the river more inflow for the time being than any half-dozen of its head streams, we get a hint of sufficient dignity to rewrite thus: — The river-sources shifted to our roofs For thrice an hour. The second prose-poetic line, I have not seen him since he was a boy, though even more devoid of edifying sense, may be ap- proximately redeemed and reinforced after this fashion : — Enhancing years have lifted up the child, Through some six feet of stature, to bold looks, And virile beard, since last we met. The next example, — I knew no reason why her eyesight failed, — XIV INTROD UCTION is not so easy, but might be retold philosophically, if not poetically, in this way: — Her eyes were vacant to the sun and stars ; No blighting touch I saw. Finally, we come to the rhymed lines, cast, as will scarcely have been forgotten, in the orthodox Popean manner, — The days nave grown so very long of late, Street lamps are lighted now at half-past eight. Even this, in its turn, may be exalted by larger sugges- tiveness of its ultimate and involved meanings, although the rhyme, which will be little missed, must be given up : At summer solstice now the sunsets lag, And streets are twilight-lit till curfew time. Imagination may be engaged by truths as well as by aspects of beauty, as these examples show. How that may be, and what is the law of its double activity, must be the subjects of the next inquiry. III. There are but three things upon tvhich literature may be founded, or of which constructed: Facts, Truths, and Aspects or Experiences of Beauty. Perhaps it has never occurred to us that literature cannot be compiled or composed out of facts as such. Were that possible, then would a book of logarithms, or The Nautical Almanac, be literature pre-eminently. The daily newspaper is made up largely of public happenings, told as annals, and never rises to the rank of literature IN TROD UCTION XV because of this fact-preponderance of material. In the editorial and correspondence columns there is matter of a different sort, which sometimes mounts to the dignity and value of true literature. What must editorial writers and correspondents do to impart this permanent quality to their work ? " They must write with curious care," says one. But what is it to write with curious care ? The critic who is responsible for the answer just quoted is, to be sure, a producer of literature, yet does himself scant justice in professing to be merely an ingenious maker of phrases. Vergil, we may say, wrought literature accord- ing to Stopford Brooke's theory, as Dante also did, and Milton and Gray, and Rogers and Tennyson, as also Burke, and Macaulay, and Walter Pater. But Shake- speare, and Bunyan, and Browning, and Carlyle have been literature-makers not less, yet cannot be said to have written with much curious care. If it were insisted that even Browning and Carlyle are not exceptions, then let us take Walt Whitman. Here is a man that will be admitted to have made some literature, but with curious careless- ness rather than curious care. Few, probably, will insist that the carlessness is more than incidental, or deny that his success has been due to message, all in spite of rather than in consequence of the formlessness of form. In like manner must it be finally agreed that even curious care never constitutes in itself the message, but is only an incident or an ornament of the vehicle bringing it. There are men who have written with very much of carefulness indeed, — our college students sometimes do that, yet without the least success in making literature, or dis- covering the secret of its power. xvi INTRODUCTION That which newspaper editors and correspondents must do to produce what shall be worth reprinting and making permanent in books is precisely what everybody else must do to gain admittance to the noble throng who are making the literature of the world. They must deal with facts ae the raw material, the occasion, of their work, but they must do something more than set forth facts brilliantly or glibly. They must accomplish what historians achieve when they transform annals into history, what Emerson and Hawthorne do when they sit down to write, — bring to the surface the underlying significance of the facts. This is nothing less than what is often called Interpreta- tion, which is the process of discovering to consciousness the type-qualities involved in any given happening or object. Facts address the intellect, and are of small significance unless or until interpreted. The quantum of life that men actually live is registered in the sum of their experiences upon this plane. It is only when men find Truth, or Beauty, or facts potential of these, that they are inspired to write. If I draw a triangle, and by nice mechanical measurements ascertain that the sum of its angles equals two right angles, I establish a fact which I am prompted to tell, perhaps, but not to write a book about, or send report of to the papers. But if I chance to discover that the angles of every triangle are always equal to two right angles, I have achieved a Truth, and if it be new, — no matter were I Euclid, and publishing were as difficult and costly as in his day, I cannot but give it to the world. The impulse would be the same if I had discovered a new principle in education, or economics, or sociology. The fact or instance by way of which the IN TR OD UCTION X V 1 1 discovery was made would be interesting historically, as would be the apple that Newton saw fall, had it been pre- served, but would be otherwise quickly dropped from mind. The same is true in the sphere of Beauty. If I encounter a lank, awkward bucolic lawyer, and observe nothing in him different from others of his type, I have before my mind simply a human fact that I shall perhaps straightway disregard. It is my habit, it is everybody's habit, to ignore things that do not seem to carry any ultimate or proximate spiritual significance. But if I finally interpret out of this man's speech and behavior the character of a Lincoln, I have discovered principles of nobility and heroism that I am moved to set forth. Others, more moved and having ampler means or oppor- tunity of interpretation, will put together books about him. I may be minded to write at least a sketch, an essay, or an oration, to make my individual feelings known. The same is true of whatsoever other principle of Beauty shall have been discovered in God, or Man, or Nature. We are here reminded of the imperious control exercised over us by the type-forces within that we call the Soul. They seize at once upon a fact, analyze it, and appropriate its heart of nobleness and worth ; or if that seem wanting, feign sometimes to have found it nevertheless. So the last or " ultimate " are really the first and nearest truths. That the three angles of every triangle equal two right angles is an "abstract" truth, last reached by human intelligence, yet existent before my triangle, or anybody's triangle, was ever drawn. Similarly, the sympathy, xvi 1 1 I NT ROD UCTION generosity, and altruism discerned in a Lincoln are " abstract " principles of The Beautiful, tardily recognized and evaluated by the developing soul, yet existent before human character or society began, or the foundations of the world were laid. Truths, and aspects of The Beautiful, alone engage and satisfy the soul. Facts have no power except as they evince a Truth, or involve an experience of The Beautiful. A triangle has no spiritual significance as such, but as an exhibition of the " law " that its angles must always equal two right angles, it has power with the soul. This power is evinced by the " high seriousness " which the soul ex- periences in presence of or on recognition of such truth. Greater truths induce the same sentiment in a proportion- ately higher degree. This high seriousness involves or occasions a recognition of Truth as One and Uncon- ditioned, in a widened spiritual view which has been styled the Mathematical and the Scientific imagination, but belongs to all departments in the domain of Truth alike. Aspects and manifestations of The Beautiful occasion subjective experiences of enthusiasm, which are generally known as Idealization. There is always recognition of Unconditioned Beauty, and some subjective uplifting of the beauty discerned towards the unconditioned plane. This is the aesthetic imagination, or Imagination as usually understood. Imagination, however, as psychologists are beginning to conceive it, is only a name of the soul in the act or attitude of recognizing or appropriating the Infinite under the forms of Ultimate (or Primal) Truth and Beauty. IN TROD UCTION XIX IV. There are three modes of presenting rjieaning, answer- ing to the three distinct kinds of meaning to be ex- pressed, — The Fact Way, The Truth Way, and The Idealizing or Beauty Way. Let us take, as the simplest of possible examples under the first head, the sentence // was spring again. In this there is no hint of truths or reasons, — except in again, which to most readers will not suggest much of natural law. There is also no indication of any purpose, in the sentence meaning, to engage the feelings. This is the Fact, or Prose, Presentation. The same idea may be communicated in such a way as not to declare, but merely to imply the fact through the laws or reasons for the fact : ' The sun climbed north from the solstice, the earth and the air grew warm, and Nature opened again her breasts to flocks and men.' In other words, the underlying principles of Truth are brought to mind as causes, and left to suggest the fact as their proper and necessary effect. Since the sensibilities are in some measure aroused, and the emotion produced is High Seriousness, the mode of presentation is clearly interpreta- tive, and of the Truth or second kind. The same idea may be expressed in such a way as not to declare, but merely to imply the fact through senti- ments of the Beautiful that the fact occasions : ' The swallows came back from the south, the wild geese flew, screaming, northwards, and the grass broke green again from the sere fields.' In other words, the underlying principles of Beauty in nature are brought to mind as XX IN TROD UCTION causes, and left to suggest the fact as their proper and necessary effect. Since the sensibilities are aroused, and the emotion produced is one of Idealization or delight, the mode of presentation is again interpretative, but of the Beauty kind. It is now evident how Tennyson succeeded so easily in keeping the lines quoted from The Princess above the plane of prose. In the first example the real sense to be expressed is, "I was of the Northern temperament and type." Hence the explanation, " For I was born in the North, ' ' and its prose-poetic paraphrase, ' ' For I had had my birthplace in the North," are really interpretative in the Truth Way, since they each make a cause do duty for one of its effects. But a principle so trite and familiar as this has little potency in arousing imagination, and might almost be mistaken for a statement of plain fact. Evidently the author, if he contemplated such an expres- sion, was dissatisfied, and sought further means. If his mind, like Matthew Arnold's, had inclined to truth- interpretations, he would likely have soon discerned or devised something more potential of high seriousness, — perhaps like this : For Northern blood and fancies ruled my brain. But Tennyson is not a truth-poet, so much as Arnold; the great majority of his lines and expressions are con- ceived in the Beauty Way. So here he communicates his meaning by presenting to imagination the experience of lying in a cradle with the Northern star shining almost directly overhead. Similarly, the other examples are of the third, or Idealizing, kind. INTRO D UCTION XXI It also becomes clear why the recasting of the prose- poetic lines, attempted under the second topic, was not unsuccessful. They were retold in such a way as to bring to view, quite palpably, certain significant and edifying type-qualities. If we can ensure fresh perceptions and experiences of these, we can make literature by the use or occasion of most obvious and trite prose materials, as Lamb, De Quincey, and so many others do. The famous Assays of Elia consist but of the commonest fact meanings told in an interpretative vein. Of course interpretation may be abused, or result in mere phrasing; also, there are much higher literary values than can be produced by resort to interpretative devices. Each of the prose-poetic utterances rewrought above, — except the phrase " till curfew time," it will perhaps have been noticed, was made over into a paraphrase of the Truth kind. It would have been just as easy to bring to the surface type-mean- ings of the Beauty sort, and recast the examples in the third presentation, if that had chanced to be the mood. V. In Prose, typically, the thing to be known is made to do duty for that which is to be felt. In Poetry, typically, the thing to be felt is made to do duty for that which is to be known. In prose, typically, all meanings, even poetical, are in- tellectually discerned and declared; in poetry, typically, all meanings, even poetic, are spiritually discerned and couched. The character of each spoken or written ut- terance is not to be sought alone in the ideas and Ian- XX11 INTRO D UCTION guage composing it, but also in the mood and motives of the speaker or writer. When an author has emotion rather than knowledge to express, he will try to make his readers feel instead of know, he will aim to force upon them some share in his emotion rather than give them information. When we hear a cry of " Murder," we know the object of the person in distress is not so much to declare a fact as to stir feelings of concern. When we have gone to the rescue, we shall most likely find that it is not a case of murder, but of wife-beating, or abuse of children. We are made to feel first, and get definite knowledge later. So far as he may, the poet does the same. He would make us feel, and is not much concerned, if he may succeed, about what happens after. He ignores time and space relations, and gives himself to generic spiritual aspects and meanings only. It is as necessary to know what prose is, typically, and what it is not, as to be definitively advised as to what is properly poetry, and what is not poetry at all. One of our earliest notions is that whatever is not expressed in verse is prose, and that any one composition cast in unmetric and unrhymed forms is as prosaic as any other lacking the same embellishments. This theory is pretty certain, in due time, to be much shaken. Consciously or unconsciously we become perusaded of an essential differ- ence between the language of the almanac, or the market- place, and such utterances as we find, for instance, in the Hundred and Fourth Psalm: "Thou art clothed with honor and majesty; who coverest thyself with light as with a garment; who stretchiest out the heavens like a curtain; who layeth the beams of his chambers in the INTRODUCTION xxill waters; who maketh the clouds his chariot; who walketh upon the wings of the wind. ' " These sentences are mani- festly nowhere in the least a record of facts. They are nothing, barring the solemn style, but plain prose in respect to form, but are unmistakably something vastly beyond plain prose in respect to meaning. A little reflec- tion will discover to us that by no conceivable rhetorical industry could they be reduced to prose, because in this case the overpowering and all-possessing sentiment cannot be made to descend to items or instances of intellectual cognition. The thing to be felt has been made to do duty for what is to be known, and since it cannot be merged in more definite knowledge, remains till the end of the experience wholly unexpanded into knowing. The same must be largely true of all examples in which a seer or poet attempts to impart an experience of the Uncon- ditioned. The sentences just quoted are interpretative, as all efforts to communicate experiences of the Sublime are interpretative, in the second or Truth way. The opening utterance of the Hebrew Scriptures is a yet more potent and significant example : " In the beginning God brought into existence the heavens and the earth." This was originally the product of most potent seership, and must have been indited by its Mesopotamic author, as well as discerned for generations by all truly spiritually minded hearers and readers, in a surpassing experience of mystic awe. But now that experience rounds out, with us, or the most of us, what with the revelations of the telescope and the spectroscope, and what with our nebular and monistic theories, into somewhat of intellectual com- prehension. The language of interpreted Truth is always . XXIV IN TROD UCTION lofty, of interpreted Beauty always refined and graceful, but in neither case is it always versified. When supreme Beauty or Truth is to be set forth, there will be, as in the verses quoted, a noble simplicity and a noble rhythm. Sometimes the mind that declares such meanings is not content unless there is added the minor rhythm that we call meter; but that is native neither to the Hebrew nor the Anglo-Saxon race. The philosophy of the three Modes of Presentation thus becomes clearer. The first mode sets forth facts without developing any of the ulterior or "type" meanings in- volved respectively in the facts themselves. Men use this language of plain fact in business, and whenever ior any reason there is no wish to assist or recognize any implied or involved effect upon the feelings. But even the most matter-of-fact and unsentimental of them all will carry over this language of plain fact into the second or the third mode, upon the instant, with very slight occasion. " Your mother died this morning," as the form of a tele- gram, is declared in a business-like and brutal use of the prose way, which leaves the thing to be known to do duty, without a syllable of consideration or deference, for that which is to be realized or felt. ' ' Your mother passed away this morning" is more nearly what the considerate and high-minded friend would telegraph, since by merely implying and partly obscuring the fact, it makes the mind realize the higher things in the realm of Truth that have caused that fact to be. In other words, by trying to make the thing to be felt do duty so far as. may be for what is to be known, the sender of the dispatch spiritualizes what he has to communicate, and lifts it palpably thus above INTRODUCTION 1 XXV the earthy plane of fact. The philosophy of the third mode is much the same. " All the earnings of a quarter of a century were swept away in a moment, ' ' is the way a man once declared the fact, to a stranger, of his busi- ness failure. He was a very plain tradesman, wholly unaccustomed to literature and elegance of speech. Yet he could not avoid trying to help his hearer realize his misfortune, by implying the fact, and expatiating somewhat upon its extent, in the sympathetic or Beauty way. It is a mistake to assume that only men of books and liberal education are " poetic. " Everybody uses the second and the third mode, in common speech, many times a day. Whatever treats of facts or of the actual in whatsoever way, without interpretation, is prose. Whatever treats of facts interpretatively, by appeal to our inner type-prin- ciples of Truth, is cast in the second way. Whatever treats of things interpretatively, through appeal to our inner type-appetencies of Beauty, the highest instincts and principles of fitness and nobleness and heroism, is cast in the third mode. There is, then, a poetry of Truth or of the Sublime, as well as a poetry of Beauty proper. We have always known indeed that the Sublime and the Beautiful exist in litera- ture, but have perhaps not realized that where there is not prose, the one or the other of these, or its opposite, must be in evidence to some degree. Again, we may not have recognized, with much clearness, that the Sublime is a name merely that we give to the highest degree of inspira- tion proceeding from the True. We make practical dis- tinctions here with great confidence and precision. When we say that this or some other person is a man 'of X x v l A V TROD L/C TION character,' we mean that he is controlled by principles of Truth. When we say that he is a man ' of worth, ' we mean the same. When we say that he is as ' true as steel,' we wish to indicate interpretatively that his char- acter exhibits the highest conceivable evincements of the True. On the other hand, when we say that the given person has a ' generous soul, ' shows a ' beautiful spirit, ' or exhibits ' great nobility of character, ' we are interpret- ing the man in the Beauty mode. All traits of excellence recognizable in aesthetics are of either the Truth or the Beauty kind. VI. The highest poetic diction is cestheiically co?nposed of incidental glimpses of the Beautiful and the True, in which the generic is used for the particular. Thus is the whole of the readers spiritual lore or culture levied on for the understanding of the smallest specific t'/ems. The ultimate purpose of a literary composition may be reached just as directly by the use of interpretative terms as by employing prosaic and unsuggestive diction. We will select a paragraph that shall illustrate the relation between the simplest units of meaning, and the inci- dentally interpretative purpose that they serve. The opening lines in Canto VII of The Princess are of average richness and strength, and practicable to quote : — So was their sanctuary violated, So their fair college turn'd to hospital ; At first with all confusion. By and by Sweet order liv'd again with other laws. A kindlier influence reign'd ; and everywhere IN TROD UCT10N XXV11 Low voices with the ministering hand Hung round the sick. The maidens came, they talk'd, They sang, they read : till she not fair began To gather light, and she that was became Her former beauty treble ; and to and fro With books, with flowers, with angel offices, Like creatures native unto gracious act, And in their own clear element, they moved. It is evident that the diction here is provided with that incidental transfigurement which we have recognized as ensured by interpretative modes of utterance. The high seriousness and beauty of the passage make themselves felt. Every paragraph like this is a shining mosaic of spiritual instances, set in substitution for just so much of the trite and moiling groundwork of the world's facts. Sanctuary is surely not a good name for a women's college, such as now in question, so far as its architecture, and magnificence, and indeed its purposes, are concerned; but the author, making shift to indicate all these by the word, compels with it an interpretative recognition ot che sacred and extreme exclusiveness which the Princess has ordained and thought to compass here. Thus we feel that "sanctuary" is spiritually precise, and is the best Truth-name of the genus to which the college actually belongs. Violate is a word of very different suggestive- ness, and throws the darkest and most brutal of masculine shadows upon the idea preceding. It is plainly said antitypally as a "sympathetic" or "beauty" word of degree, to interpret, from the Princess's point of view, what has really happened to her ideals and plan. Fair, with like sympathetic purport and purpose, invests this college of violet and daffodil hoods and gowns with such Xxvili INTRODVCTIOX charm as woman's taste must always give to all things hers. Turned to hospital is, of course, not literally true at all; only for the nonce shall wounded knights be nursed and surgeoned here. Yet spiritually is the change as real as if nothing were to be done forever in those rooms and halls but merciful tending upon the hurt and sick. With all confusion is an exaggerated "feeling" or svmpathetic expression, interpretative of degree; appealing to us imaginatively in the guise of withdrawing all the confusion from the rest of the world, and massing it in this place. Sweet order lived again is a Beauty allegory; the muse or genius of Order is conceived to take up her abode here, for there is no outward show of magistracy < >r authority any more. With other laivs, namely, than those Draconian ones till now depended on to ensure security. Laws is the spiritual Truth-name for the forces that now control. " Laws " they are not, for there is no power in exercise to declare them, and none to execute. The presence of suffering, with the pity and the willingness to help, — such are the things that have in this home now more than the force of law. A kindlier influence reigned ; not allegory, but a metaphoric interpretation of the Truth kind. Influence is a good Truth name of that which now keeps the school-maids tame and respectful and demure. Instead of the truculent, unsexed will of the Princess- Head, who has ruled by threats, and by her oppressive, brow-beating presence, the air is full of a kindlier spirit that subdues and softens. Reigned is likewise a good Truth name, and puts this government into its right genus. Here is indeed a reign, though there is no ruler. Low voices (i.e., of nurses tending, speaking to surgeons) INTRODUCTION XXIX with the ministering hand hung round the sick gives us an impressionistic glimpse, in the sympathetic or Beauty way, of what is being done. The voices do not rise in the room, but seem to hover about the couches; those hands that are always near, smoothing coverlets and adjusting pillows, — they also seem to hover. The maidens came, they talked, they sang, they read, — things done put for the motive of the doing, as marks or measures of degree, to make us feel their feelings. There seem none hoydenish or frowzy or fro ward among the group; all are alike maidenly and idealized by the place, and the presence, and the sentiments they show. Till she not fair began to gather light, — to respond, that is, to the nobler sympathies and impulses within, to be transfigured with the marks of an enlarging soul. Here is an appeal to a spiritual Truth-law, put interpretatively for a fact happening in accordance with it. And she that was became her former beauty treble. Here is an interpretative attempt, of the third kind, to measure the increase of beauty wrought in gentle, generous souls by generous, gentle deeds. We often say, crudely, and inexactly, "ten times rather," "a hundred times more lovely," or "fortunate," or clever, ' ' or that we are not half so sorry for this person as for this other, or that we have not the tenth part of the interest in some certain matter as in some other one. There is no way of measuring a feeling, or the cause of a feeling, quantitatively, but we borrow the suggestion of multiples and ratios, in lieu of better means. Hence, treble, which should be a Truth-term, is here used as an interpretative expedient of the sympathetic or Beauty kind. And to and fro with books, with flowers t with a fig el offices : XXX IN TROD UCTION first, as befits young ladies of refined intelligence, they read to the prostrate sufferers; next, they set flowers so as to be in sight always of the patients, — thus measuring to us the degree of their inspired thoughtfulness ; and with a hundred indeterminate little kindnesses, like a mother's to a suffering child, offices such as the presence of angels might procure, not in smoothing pillows, or administering drinks or viands, but inspiring calm and strength and cheer; like crealures native unto gracious act, — servitors whose birth endows them to ceaseless acts of graciousness ; and in their own clear element they moved, — like angels in their purer world, where there is no merchandizing, or bickering, or drudging. The whole palace seemed a. world of gentleness and beauty, an ethereal sphere. Only here, and thus, Tennyson would hold, does earth touch the confines of heaven. Woman should never hedge herself from man, or enter into competition with him, but allied with him without fear or presumption, inspire his work and complete his mission, so enlarging her life and ennobling his. This echo of the author's final meaning sounds everywhere in this closing canto of the poem. The whole, to prepared and discerning souls, is an evangel and a prophecy, — by no means obsolete, as some would hold, — of rarest delicacy and power. As a piece of inter- pretative writing, it is, without gainsaying, unsurpassed in universal literature. INTRODUCTION xxxi VII. Interpretation may consist not only in identifying and bringing to consciousness ultimate qualities of the Beauti- ful and the True, but likewise in evaluating or realizing imaginatively their degree. One of the chief means of interpretative expression is Figures. In order to understand what figures do, it will be necessary to inquire into the essential elements which make up each as an idea. Let us take examples from the third paragraph -of " The Prologue " in this volume: ' that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon : A good knight he ! We keep a chronicle With all about him,' — which he brought, and I Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights, Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings Who laid about them at their wills and died ; And mix'd with these a lady, one that arm'd Her own fair head, and sallying thro' the gate Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls. There are three strongly interpretative figures in this passage, "dived,"' "hoard," and "mixed." To dive means to cut one's self off from one environment, and adapt one's self immediately to the exigencies of another. It serves as the name of at least three combined efforts and experiences, — of throwing the body violently and blindly forward, of plunging head foremost, with the arms stretched and hands clasped above, into deep water, and of holding one's breath, of establishing one's balance, and otherwise behaving fish-like, under the water. All who have ever risked the feat recognize emotionally these three XXX11 INTROD UCTION stages in the suggestions of the word. It is not possible to use dive as a figure except by borrowing one of the component elements of meaning, and Tennyson here appropriates the second. He represents himself as stand- ing, together with his six Cambridge friends, in the great feudal hall, a hundred, a thousand, objects of distracting interest in view, and a bevy of young ladies expecting their immediate presence, and yet when the book of legends is once put into his hands, becoming straightway oblivious to where he is and what the rest of the company await. The man who throws himself, head first, into the water, is apt pretty completely to disregard the com- panions left upon the shore, as well as to have considerable ado in meeting the demands of the new element he has entered. Thus dive makes us understand, in the second way, the true inwardness of the transaction by which the author ignored, and quite uncivilly, his young host, and his fellow guests, and lost himself in reading. " Hoard," the next figure, interprets to us, in the Beauty mode, how he likes what he has found. The squirrel that happens to come upon the stores that another squirrel has laid up, appropriates them greedily. The spiritual elements in hoard are, to prize something as exceedingly covetable, and to secure and conceal against purloiners. The first of these elements is the one borrowed here. Thus we see, if we care to go so far, that dived and hoard are interpre- tative as to the degree of the author's fondness for chronicles, — like Sir Thomas Malory's, of heroism and romance. We need perhaps to note, in passing, that the unit of construction and cognition in interpretative writing, which 1NTR0D UCTION XXX11I is always generic, is the whole sentiment, while in com- ponent figures like those in hand it is the single term. It is the smallness of the unit in the case in hand that pre- vents mixed metaphor. Raise the unit, and dived into a hoard would become both ludicrous and stupid. Ex- amples of this sort are not infrequent in The Princess. In mix, the last of the three figures, the interpretation intended is of the Truth kind. In " mixing with, " all component elements, as it were, touch all, and are touched by all, though without combining. We mix with a crowd when we avoid no one, but brush and jostle the man or woman in mean clothing, as well nabobs and great dames, and are brushed and jostled also by them in turn. The word does its work by causing us to realize, through contrast, what it must have meant for this mediaeval lady, with all her exclusiveness and delicacy, to come out and make herself a comrade with coarse soldiery. She was no Joan of Arc, evidently, in extraction. But she led no less valiantly her host to victory. That a figurative term is used, not for the sake of the whole, but of some prominent element in it, is palpable enough. It is also palpable that the force that compels this borrowing is one of the type-appetencies of the soul, seeking to come into possession of its own. The type- instincts of Beauty covet their respective forms of beauty ; the type-instincts of Truth in the soul crave specific revealments and experiences of the True. The soul can- not be satisfied except with spiritual aspects of things in kind, and with a very high manifestation of these aspects in degree. Hence are all figures interpretative of invisible verities, or of manifestations of beauty, either in their XXX IV INTROD VCTION nature, or in their intensity. We will now consider figures as a means of spiritual interpretation with respect to kind. To begin with as simple an instance as possible, we choose first the figure in the last of these lines (392-396) from Elaine, — where she Paus'd by the gateway, standing near the shield In silence, while she watch'd their arms far ofT Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. If an artist were to paint this scene, he would survey it and search it through and through, to find an axis about which the whole should turn until the meaning, the message, be yielded up to every mind. Tennyson's problem is the same, and the figure here used furnishes him a means to the same end. We recognize that the vital element in dipt is the lowering of the perpendicular, making an angle with the ground line less than a right angle. This is, of course, most palpable when we use a basin to take up water: we tilt the plane of the dish, and so draw over the perpendicular that might be erected from it. As borrowed in the new connection, dipt brings to us interpretingly the distant view that came to the eyes of Elaine,' — how the lances that, as Lavaine and Lancelot have been riding, were wholly vertical, now become aslant while the riders, athwart the background of the kindled south, go over and below the shoulder of the downs. 1 1 Cf. the interpretative reference in The Princess (I. 232-234) to INTRODUCTION XXXV Again, take these lines from Sir Galahad, — A gentle sound, an awful light ! Three angels bear the Holy Grail : With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. First, in folded, the feet are signified as in the reposeful posture paralleled in "folded arms." In sleeping wings the figure tells us vitally that these members are unem- ployed quite as much as if separate objects, and possessing and exercising the power of inner slumber. In they sail we catch the experience of the spectacle through seeing these angel forms move, passively, like ships, by the effect of some agency beyond and without themselves. Other suggestive illustrations of figures in kind might easily be added. In wounded soul, the borrowed element emphasizes the difference between a wound and slighter hurts, in that the former must have treatment, since its injury is within, and remains till healed. In the figurative use of dandle we always borrow the element of ' moving about in the arms for the delectation of the object moved. ' To dash signifies to 'carry along with all one's energy, then throw. ' Hence the use of this word as interpretative of bodily action will not depend upon the element of casting something by muscular effort of the arms, but of employ- ing the gathered momentum of the whole body. It is the feminine backhand, in which the Prince entered the three ficti- tious names, — I sat down and wrote In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all its ears before the roaring East. By the angle, which the author thus visualizes to us, we get the whole effect of the handwriting. XXXV 1 TRODUCTION catch the special clement for the sake of which a word lik< - been used, without invent for the most pan, in the analysis of fig- had best be done. s interpretative of the degree or int iritual quality, a few examples will suffice. We shall • H.534-53 m Geraint and Enid : — Another, flying from the wrath of Doorm Before an ever-fancied arrow, made The long way smoke beneath him in his fear. transparency I form - of r: iing odor e» -'.- _\: ■ — evident that the borrowed idea or element h fifth one recognized in the diagram. — the coniinu the effect, after the instantaneous removal of the ca The figure make- bove the road for half a mile rising equally over the whole length. It thus measures the intensity of the fear and of the flight. We will compare this very different figure from (11. The Holy Grail : — a maiden sprang into the hall Crying on help : for all her shining hair Was smear'd with earth, and either milky arm Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore Torn as a sail that leaves the rope is torn In tempest. IX PRODUCTION xxxvn Is milky arm a logically correct expression ? No, for arm is not a liquid. When a logically correct classification has been made, the mind experiences satisfaction, because a thing has been made known in certain of its ultimate relations: the Truth-senses, that is, have been gratified in some degree. It the recognition of ultimate relations is enlarged in kind, or intensified in degree, the satisfaction is proportionably enhanced. Poetical or aesthetic figures are a means of enlarging and intensifying such recognition. Here the poetic figure milky is highly edifying because the ultimate beauty in the flesh-tint of a maiden's arm is effectually interpreted to us by way of a higher manifesta- tion of the same beauty in another object. The thing that comes nearest the pure principle of ultimate beauty is made to do duty as the representative of the principle, of the beauty itself. The absolute, unconditioned beauty that the flesh-hue in this ease postulates, and enables us approximately to experience, exists nowhere in this world in concrete form. So far as we are concerned, it is merely a subjective something, a type-force or " ideal," in the human soul. Under its influence Tennyson borrows milky as its nearest material exponent, and by that word aims to produce a like vision and experience within our- selves who read. Figures depend upon a certain process of spiritual classification. Logical classification is based upon an exterior or fundamental characteristic of some sort; on some fact of structure, or function, or habit that we can see and know continually. Spiritual classification, as exhibited in figures, is based upon a principle of truth or beauty that can be but spiritually discerned. The reason XXXVlll INTRODUCTION why man is associated with the bat and the whale, in the class Mammalia, everybody understands. We all appre- ciate likewise the reason for dividing the races of mankind into ' long-skulled ' (dolichocephalous), and ' short-skulled ' (brachycephalous) , and for the more recent classification into ' smooth-haired ' {lissotriches), and ' woolly-haired ' {idotriches). In such divisions among the lower orders as 1 carnivorous, ' and ' herbivorous, ' we seem to come close upon a higher and unseen principle, since the herbivora are in general inoffensive outside their own species, while the carnivora are universally and remorselessly destructive. Yet even here the grounds of distinction are not type- differences of inner disposition or endowment, but certain notable and invariable differences in the teeth. Traits of character, which are forms or manifestations of ultimate truth or ultimate beauty, are not much in request when we are determining the foundations or fixing the boun- daries in a scientific classification. In a spiritual classification, on the other hand, the common principle is often unapparent, being sometimes brought to light only at the utterance of the figure, and then as quickly lost from mind. To say that a man stands like a rock is not to insist that any human being bears the slightest exterior or visual resemblance to a rock. It means that we have discerned in the person whose action is characterized an ultimate spiritual principle called firmness, and interpret its degree by appealing to the object that exhibits this quality most palpably. The rock resists attack, and is not so much as shaken by all the waves that dash against it. When we see the same strength, physical or moral, in a man, we are minded to INTROD UCTION XXXIX apply to him, not the name of the type-quality so much as of the most vitally conceived object evincing it. We may even say, in a moment of enthusiasm, that the man is a rock indeed. To call a man a ' rock ' is not to put him definitively in the genus named by that word, but to recognize him as, along with the rock, belonging to a higher class in which the determining quality is the spiritual principle exhibited in both. We cannot identify firmness except by firm things, since it is a quality existent nowhere, at least in this world, unapplied, alone; but we can use one manifestation of it to elucidate another. Hence we employ ' rock ' as a very palpable measure of the staunchness, the decision displayed by the man in question. We do not do this because a ' rock ' is the highest known manifestation of resistive power, but because, ordinarily, it is the simplest and most familiar of physical examples. But no granite ever was that could not be broken; while men have lived who, though put upon the rack and torn limb from limb, have remained unyielding. If there were need to indicate the degree of stalwartness of this highest moral sort, we should doubt- less say, firm as a 'martyr.' So we use interpretative degree-figures according to the loftiness or intensity of the quality discerned rather than the effectiveness or avail- ability of examples at hand. The reason why we put one thing as the spiritual repre- sentative of another, in the mode called metaphor, seems evident. When we have thoroughly mastered a spiritual principle through seeing it in an unmistakable and strik- ing instance, we adopt that instance as a convenient expression for the common spiritual principle in a new xl TNTROD UCT10N case. We have seen a child perhaps crying over a broken pitcher and spilled milk, or we have at least heard of such a thing. The hopelessness and the folly of it, even in fancy, are so apparent and sensational that we seem to regard the spiritual meaning of the incident more than the incident itself. So when we see a grown-up man half distracted over the loss from signing some note of hand or mortgage unwittingly, or from some like misfortune, we experience a lively sense of the same irreparableness and the same folly. But we do not tell the man how com- pletely we find these type-principles fulfilled. We want him to understand that we feel the irreparableness and the folly in his case very strongly, yet we say merely, '* There is no use in crying over spilled milk." And we run not the slightest risk of being misunderstood ; for even if the man, by any possibility, have never heard the expression used before, he will know that it is not our purpose to speak of tear-shedding or milk-spilling, but will recognize the principle and get the message more quickly than in any literal way. A figure interpretative in kind, like the one last con- sidered, is a spiritual instance so obvious and transparent as to enforce recognition of its inner meaning, to the dis- regard of its outer significance as a fact. When the mind has learned to detect truths and traits of beauty in the opener forms, and to do this readily and completely, it will then gradually extend the process to less open mani- festations. When we are old enough to recognize modesty and shyness in girls and children, so as almost to take these qualities for granted at sight, we begin to discern the same qualities peering out at us in manifestations IN TROD UCTION xl i below the human. So we find ourselves seeing and saying, by figures of kind, that the lily or the violet is shy, and the poppy bold-faced and brazen. In order to interpret to ourselves and others the type-qualities we see, we shall transfer to the new objects the names of type-qualities met with before. When we discern spiritual qualities first among mankind, we extend our acquaintance with them downward, as just illustrated. When we see them first in outside things, — and this happens much more frequently, we extend our acquaintance with them upivard, as shown by the kind-figures pure, cold, green, smooth, slippery, stiff, callow, crabbed, crooked, cross, ruffled, and numberless others. There is much oftener occasion to interpret type- qualities in men from evincements below the human sphere, than the reverse. Very evidently, as has been said earlier, the first thing to be done in the study of figures is to identify the type- principle that in each case underlies them, and for the sake of revealing or interpreting which they are respectively used. This will always, if the treatise in hand be organic and genuine, disclose the' larger interpretative purpose which the figures aid. It is of little moment whether we observe perfunctorily, and from without the idea, that this is a case of simile, and that of metaphor, synecdoche, and the like. Neither is it edifying or correct to imagine that the simile is, in itself, a weaker and less noble figure than metaphor, and to teach men or children so. For the right evaluation of figures depends as much upon the standard to which things are referred as upon the things referable to the standard. When we say " Her face makes me think of the Madonna," it is evident that we xl 1 1 IN TR OD UC riON see in the former some suggestion of the type-quality that is more fully evinced in the second of the objects named. It will do no good to make the observation that what has been said is a variety of the simile, being equivalent to the commoner form with " like." The significant thing is, the object first mentioned looks towards some other object which exhibits the common type-quality more potently or completely. In other words, the face first named is subordinated to the second, which is thereby made the basis or standard of comparison. But, on the other hand, if we find ourselves saying " That face, that woman is the Madonna, " it is clear that we subordinate, in our thought, other evincements of the common'type- quality to this one, and so make this the basis of com- parison. The type-quality seems to us, for the moment, to be here best manifested, and in our enthusiasm at seeing an ideal so nearly actualized we affirm that this is the Madonna indeed. Do we wonder at the inexactness and exaggeration of such emotional judgments ? I suppose even the mathe- maticians are not without sin in their attempts to express like meanings. All spiritual principles are, in relation to material facts or things evincing them, infinities. Material things are shifting and temporary, but spiritual verities and aspects of beauty, unvarying and eternal. Material facts, or things involving spiritual principles or qualities, are like finite coefficients of infinite values. We may represent infinity to our thought as a row of ciphers, pre- ceded by the figure 2, and extending from Washington to New York. If instead of 2 we were to put 2,000 or 2,000,000, we should have as the result, of course, an INTRODUCTION xlill infinity a thousand times, or a million times, greater than our first one. Yet, the first conception is really as great, so far as our capacity to estimate is concerned, as either of the others, and is easier to our thought. We may then say, both mathematically and aesthetically, 200 = 2,00000 , and in our mental operations will use the former as a better expression for the latter. So, when we say to the farmer who has signed away his property, " There's no use crying over spilled milk," we are but substituting a smaller fact or coefficient involving a spiritual principle, for a less practicable fact evincing the same; we are putting 2 co for 2,oooco just as the mathematicians do. There is no difference between this instance and the one in which we say "This face, this woman is the Madonna, " except that in the former we assume the spiritual equality of the two manifestations, — while in the latter we affirm it; and we probably in a measure recognize that we are in this case putting as the large coefficient, so to speak, 2,000,000, and not 2,000. Here the first is of course a figure indicative of kind, the latter, of degree. VIII. In polite literature, there are higher denominations of value than can be foujid in the different forms and modes of Interpretative Composition, and there are also lower. The highest literary values belong to sentiments of the Beautiful and the True never experienced or communicated before. Is Tennyson a great poet, we must sooner or later ask. Some critics and admirers believe that he will live as long xliv INTROD UCTION as Shakespeare. Others declare him wanting in intel- lectual power, and hardly worthy to stand in the second class. Is literary worth determined by the quantum of interpretation, or by the inherent quality of the spiritual meanings which interpretation makes available ? Is interpretation the highest service that mind can render mind ? The great bulk of literature issuing from the press now- a-days, and in fact the most of what has been thought and said in writing since the invention of letters, has been of the sort called Interpretative in these pages. When a man sees a principle more clearly than other people, and is able to explain it adequately, he is an interpreter simply. It often happens that some one in a group of friends, or in a parliamentary assembly, serves the whole body in this manner. In general, when a man sees an old truth in a new light, or from a new point of view, or finds a way to present it more clearly or more effectually, and so gives his version to the world, he achieves an act of interpretation. It is of course essential that each mind served have some inkling, some vague but potential glimpse of the common truth or beauty. Thus Tyndall, and Huxley, and Fiske have been interpreters of the doctrine of evolution, and have made the subject clear to many minds that could not otherwise have understood it. But Goethe, and Browning, and Spencer, and Darwin, and others who independently discerned this mode or habit of the First Cause, and published it to the world, were not Interpreters, but Revealers. A revealer is one who makes known new truth, discovered in whatsoever way. When he comes upon it in the manner in which Rontgen IN TROD UCTION xl V found the A'-ray, and in which Pasteur the method of immunity by progressive inoculation, he is a revealer by experimentation. When he discerns beforehand, in a purely mental view, the existence or activity of some great principle, he is a revealer by seership. Goethe, who divined evolution with some clearness, was a Seer, as for like reason was also Browning. The highest service that can be rendered to society is the revelation of new truth. The discovery of a single spiritual principle may revolutionize human thought, and human living; and this we have more than once seen happen within our generation. When the revelation is communicated through the medium of a literary mind, and in the form of a communication to polite letters, we call the service seership. Literature is really evaluated according, first, to the degree of revelatory, and secondly, to the degree of interpretative, quality that is exhibited. Shakespeare is a seer, and often gives utterance to pro- found spiritual principles, both of Beauty and of Truth, though sometimes but incidentally to other ends. Brown- ing, though to very different purpose and extent, is a seer also. Tennyson writes poetry of seership quality in his In Memoriam and some other pieces, but scarcely in The Princess. Here he merely interprets into definiteness and conviction an idea, concerning the sphere and influence of woman, that has been long potential to the general mind, but uses, as has been shown, a great deal of incidental interpretative diction to reach his major purpose. As the highest function of literature is to reveal, so the next highest is to interpret what has been revealed before. xlvi 1NTR0D UCTION When Emerson says " An institution is but the lengthened shadow of one man,"'' he communicates an original or revelatory idea of the Truth kind. It is wholly compre- hensible, and at once engages our minds to realize it. We think of John Harvard, and Elihu Yale, and Ezra Cornell, and of Robert Raikes, and a dozen even better examples. If we should proceed to write down our instances and realizations, for the benefit of others, or if Emerson had gone on to such things himself, the result would have been pre-eminently what we have called Interpretation. To couch trite meanings, as was done under the second topic (p. xi), in fresh and edifying forms, by use of incidental interpretative diction, is a mode of interpretative writing, but one to be distinguished from the higher and typical mode here considered. The next highest function of literature, after the service of interpreting more practicably what has been revealed before, is to cast trite or commonplace ideas in edifying forms. There is much more literature of this lower inter- pretative quality than of any other. Whatever of inner difference exists between poetized diction and the involved literal or prosaic meanings is to be accredited to this interpretative mode. Nothing will better serve to illus- trate than what we find at the opening of Paradise Lost. Expressed baldly, with no least yielding to the interpreta- tive impulse, Milton's first nine lines and a half would have amounted to nothing more than this : — Concerning man's fall, its cause, and its consequences, up to the redemption wrought by Christ, I propose to write. Here are three points to be touched upon in the inter- INTRO D UCTION xlvii pretative vein : the Fall ; Salvation ; and the declaration of a purpose. t The first of these is enlarged by the author, in the Truth presentation, thus : — Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste Brought death into the world, and all our woe, With loss of Eden. The reference to redemption, which is the second point, is couched interpretatively thus : — till one greater Man Restore us, and regain the blissful seat. Then, finally, instead of saying ' I now intend to treat this theme, ' he borrows the old classic idea of inspiration through a specific genius or deity, identifying the influence he means by its work in the seership of Moses; and this influence he invokes to indite his strains: — Sing, heavenly Muse, that on the secret top Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, In the beginning how the heavens and earth Rose out of Chaos. To a Brahmanic or Buddhist reader, no matter how well versed in English speech, unless he chanced to be expert in Christian theology, this opening passage would be unintelligible. Even our native college youths and maidens, themselves well-languaged, and well-instructed in the lore of the catechism, often find the diction of this poem intolerable, and sometimes conclude, after a trial or two, that they have not the brains to read it. The reason is not merely that they lack a certain spiritual or philosophic maturity, — for the literal meanings of Para- xlviii INTROD UCTION dise Lost, as of all else of Milton's poetry, are throughout simple, but that they have not yet learned to kindle at the first note of lofty feeling. Unawakened minds must always perhaps regard that master-work as a mass of trite and exploded notions told in tedious circumlocution. On the other hand, there are always book-worms and other lovers of literature for its own sake who prefer neat and finical paraphrasing to straightforward diction. There is possibly, also, another group of readers, with tastes so etherialized as to insist that literal and commonplace things come to view not as upon the solid plane of fact where they belong, but by mirage, solely in the upper air of the spiritual. Neither of these is the class of true readers for whom Milton, and Shakespeare, and Sophocles, and Dante, and Tennyson, and the other masters wrote. We cannot account for the style and language of the Paradise Lost as merely periphrastic, for the sake of elegance, or as ingeniously varied to avoid triteness, but only as inspired by a generic sentiment of the sublime. This feeling induced in advance by the transcendental propor- tions of the theme, by the vast conceptions that from the first had gathered about the plan, forced the author to lay aside his literal or matter-of-fact vocabulary and manner, and admit only such expressions as would befit the lofti- ness of his purpose. 1 Thus, at the opening of the second paragraph, wishing to ask rhetorically the reason for Adam's and Eve's disloyalty, he goes to considerable interpretative length in expressing it : — 1 It may be noted that Paradise Regained lacks the lofty indirect- ness of the earlier poem. We shall remember also that the author's inspiration in attempting it was very different. INTRODUCTION xlix Say first, what cause Moved our grand parents, in that happy state, Favor'd of Heaven so highly, to fall off From their Creator, and transgress his will For one restraint, lords of the world besides ? Who first seduced them to that foul revolt ? Any such circumlocution would be intolerable in prose; yet a more curt or condensed mode of utterance, under these circumstances, would fail of the controlling senti- ment in the author's mind. Poetry, whether metrical or not, is sometimes palpably a sort of expanded prose, and amounts to retelling in spiritual terms something already known or assumed to have been already told in the fact way. In primitive and rudimentary literature, as for instance Homer, there is often a double statement, one literal, and one interpretative. We see examples of this perhaps most frequently in the Hebrew psalms: — When Israel went forth out of Egypt, (Literal) The house of Jacob from a people of strange language, (In- Judah became his sanctuary, [terp.) Israel his dominion. O come, let us sing unto the Lord, (Literal) (In- Let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our salvation, [terp.) It will thus be found that the supposed parallelisms of the Hebrew Scriptures are often not strictly parallel, or intended to be merely repetitions of single notions, but are rather attempts to express undeveloped residues of inner spiritual meaning. The literature of mature civilizations is generally too intense to permit a literal statement and an interpretative repetition of the same idea; a single presentation is made to do duty for both clauses. In such a case it is naturally 1 INTRODUCTION the fitter that survives; the principle, which is greater than the fact, is put for the principle and the fact together. This presentation will, of course, be either of the second or the third kind. We need but to turn, for illustration, to the opening paragraph already quoted (p. xi) of The Holy Grail. It is interesting to note how completely literal or " prose " meanings, are evaded, or expressed by implication only. The first part of the passage is essen- tially equivalent, with the literal and interpretative mean- ings unmerged, to this : — From wars, or noiseful arms, and from tournaments or tilts, and acts of real prowess done therein, Sir Percival, whom Arthur and his knights believed to have achieved the ideal of purity to which they were sworn, and whom hence they called The Pure, had entered an abbey, and thus passed into the silent life of prayer, praise, fasting, and alms-soliciting. The last line of the paragraph, as will have been noted, is not interpretative, but ends the whole, though strongly, in the prosaic way. Camelot, it must be remembered, is not to be taken as merely geographical, but associational of great towers, and marvelous riches and beauty. The sentence, if completed as begun, would have closed doubtless somewhat as thus : — and leaving for the cowl The helmet in an abbey far away From Camelot, — that flower of Arthur's towns, Built high and strong and wonderful with magic, There yielded, and not much afterwards, his life. But there is such a thing as proportion ; and interpretative diction consumes more time than the prosaic. Such an ending would have made this opening paragraph too long. INTROD UCTION IX. In literary values, below the interpretative presen- tations, are to be recognized Conceits, Marinism, and Phrasing. When a figure is not spiritually true, but used sensa- tionally, the result is generally a Conceit, or Marinism. In either case the matter is in extreme subjection to the manner. Figures are properly used, as has been shown, for interpretative ends; that is, as aids to bring to con- sciousness inherent type-qualities of Beauty and of the True. Conceits are easily distinguished from interpreta- tion in that they occasion a larger experience from the ingenuity and far-fetched nature of the idea than from the interpretative proceeds of the expression as a whole. Tennyson, because of his imaginative saneness and intensity, seldom admits them to his lines. Perhaps his worst offences, at least in The Princess, were committed when he wrote (VI. 349-351) now and then an echo started up And shuddering fled from room to room, and died Of fright in far apartments ; and when, wishing to hit off the fondness of women — as he apparently believed — for ambitious phrases, he allowed himself (II. 355-357) to say jewels five words long, That on the stretched forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever. Of course these deliverances really interpret nothing, either in kind or in degree. The strained and perversely intellectual quality of the idea draws away the mind very Hi INTROD UCTIOX palpably from the real matter of the thought to the inorganic manner of the interpretative effort to declare it. Next below Conceits comes Marinistic diction, which produces effects of a purely sensational character, some- times with no least trace of ulterior or contributive mean- ing. We are generally reminded of Dryden's Upon the Death of Lord Hastings, or Cowley's Mistress, whenever Marinism is mentioned. Conceits border close on Marin- ism, but are usually distinguishable by their cold and glittering intellectual quality. Young's suggestion of stars as seal rings upon the fingers of the Almighty is properly a conceit, yet from the rank sensationalism of the idea, must be accounted Marinistic. Tennyson is nowhere chargeable with locutions so extravagant. Some critics and many readers are confused as to the distinction between certain lower forms of interpretative expression, and the lowest of all, which we have called Phrasing. It requires more than ordinary penetration, or at least unusual training, to discriminate immediately and unerringly in such matters. There are men who would denounce ' ' a dressy literature, an exaggerated literature, and ' ' a highly ornamented, not to say a meretricious style, "—meaning almost specifically such work of Tenny- son's as exhibits his best interpretative technique, and yet would apparently praise lines like these from Wordsworth {The Excursion, Book IV.) : — I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-liftp'd shell. Here the italic portions are manifestly nothing but phras- ing, and phrasing of a pestilently effeminate sort. There IN TROD UCTION 1 11 i are seemingly but three kinds of phrasing possible, the Brainless, the Pedantic, and the Ironic or Burlesque. The first species is illustrated in such lisping and affected refinements of speech as the dude's residence (' rethi- denth ') for the good and gloriously adequate Anglo-Saxon ho??ie. Whatever faults of touch Tennyson may finally be adjudged to have committed, he is certainly never afraid to utter prose with drastic plainness when he has nothing better than prose to say. He could nowhere, even in his cal lowest days, have written " dwelling on a tract of inland ground," when the meaning was to be merely inland born or reared. Wordsworth's last line, — The convolutions of a smooth-lipp'd shell, is a more endurable instance of phrasing proper, yet carries upon its face sufficient evidence of its inorganic quality. Of course Wordsworth merely wants to indicate to us a particular kind of shell, and not at all what the shell is or means. An extended expression of this kind is legitimate when truly interpretative of some recondite spiritual meaning, but never when the purpose is solely, as here, to identify an object to the reader's mind. We are then reluctantly forced to set Wordsworth's lines just quoted in the lowest rank of phrasing. Not that Words- worth was puerile, as many of his earliest critics opined and declared. He simply lacked the power of virile con- ception and of strenuous diction, seen so typically in Browning, hence sometimes, as in Peter Bell, wrote de- liberately below his level. The second, and next higher sort of phrasing, is not found much in literature of these days. Now and then we hear a college fledgling talk somewhat in the pedantic hV INTRODUCTION vein. The good sense of the English-speaking race revolted from it betimes. Tennyson frequently shows signs of his classical training, but seldom or never phrases in units so high as the clause or line. Open at random, and we are likely to find minor expressions such as these : — That clad her like an April daffodilly ; Her maiden-babe, a double April old ; Thro' stately theatres, benched crescent-wise ; Nor those horn-handed breakers of the glebe ; Melissa shook her doubtful curls. But, in judging cases of this kind, we must take care to distinguish utterances which do not represent Tennyson, but are put in to characterize some mind or mood of his creating, from such as he himself would use. Thus, the lines some time since quoted from The Princess, — Then, ere the silver sickle of that month Became her golden shield, were pretty surely intended to give the hint, along with the ringlets and weird seizures earlier, of the Prince's effeminacy and sentimentalism, — which are arbitrarily altered before Canto VII. is reached, — at the opening of the poem. Again, the Princess's phrasing in There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun, — is surely not to be taken as other than symptomatic of new and undigested learning, sought after not for itself, but for the sake of the accomplishment and power of its possession. As an example of Ironic or Burlesque phrasing, Pope's Song by a Person of Quality may be instanced. We shall remember that this poem has from the first been conned INTROD UCTION lv soberly, by many readers, without discovery of its mocking purpose. Two stanzas from it will be sufficient here : — ■ Fluttering spread thy purple pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart, I a slave in thy dominions ; Nature must give way to art. Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming All beneath yon flowery rocks. The last two lines, taken in conjunction, should have always betrayed the character of the whole. The ' unit ' here is the whole poem; or, more correctly, the first two stanzas comprise one burden of nonsense, and each of the remaining makes up another. To compare with this an effort in which the unit is reduced to the single line, I shall quote the following supreme illustration from I know not what master of literary irony : — The light resounds across the hills, The crumbling dew-drops fall, The rippling rock the moonbeam fills, The starlight spreads its pall. Now gleams the ruddy sound afar, The evening zephyrs glow, While from the lake a crimson star Sparkles like summer snow. The beams of circumambient night Have wrapped their shadows round, And deep-toned darkness fills the sight Of all the world profound. Very evidently all such masterpieces of burlesque are inspired by the desire to satirize, by exaggeration, the evil Ivi INTROD UCTION of subordinating and sacrificing sense to sound. Much of the first work of versifiers calls for no less drastic remedy. There are, then, including the literal or fact mode, eight denominations of literary values; and there seem to be no other generic ones besides these eight. We will leave the discussion of poetic diction here with two observations, either of which is sufficient for another introduction to a poem like -The Princess. We must have new truth continually, fresh revealments of the Infinite Knowledge, as of the Infinite Beauty that is beyond. Since the world began, the inspiration of seer- ship has not ceased nor the revelation of the Beautiful been denied. We hear men making inquiry of one another whether poetry shall not fail. It will fail when new knowledge ceases to come into the consciousness of men. Without this increase society would perish. We cannot be edified with merely the music, the art, the literature of our fathers. Again, the spiritual life can never consist solely in reading and realizing the revelatory and interpretative ideas of others. We must be ourselves seers and interpreters, in our degree, if we would live indeed. Diligent study of the manner if not the matter of the poem now in hand will contribute not a little to this end. SUGGESTIONS FOR THE STUDY OF THE POEM It is not the purpose here to provide suggestions with reference to the teaching of English masterpieces at large; few instructors are in search of counsel on general points of methodology. The Princess is, however, unlike most other classics in being too intensive for treatment as narrative; there is besides in it no history, and but little of what may be called life; and the plot is of small im- portance. Hence the unit of inquiry in studying it must be materially reduced, and results had from less condensed poetry must not be looked for. But there are possibilities of other work that may be helpfully considered. In addition to usual studies of the text much profit may be expected from making it the basis of investigation into the modes and resources of poetic diction. Nowhere else so availably have plain meanings been told by appeal to unifying principles or laws. As a topic closely connected here, the figurative expressions of Tennyson call for the most penetrating study. Some of the metaphors in The Princess have been objected to as inorganic and even false, apparently because of the assumption that they could not have been meant to be interpretative otherwise than in kind. It perhaps is true that we use kind-figures prevailingly in life, but it is certain that degree-figures abound in literature. It is often impossible to reach lvii Ivni SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY Tennyson's meanings fully except by analyzing every in- stance of either sort. Nobody has ever used figures to better dynamic purpose. There is unusual opportunity in The Princess to study poetry of the Sublime, which is too little understood. Many readers take for granted that a work like The Princess must be necessarily poetry of the Beautiful, which school folk are too likely to regard as poetry of the Pretty. The first step in the development of taste is the recognition of ideals. While Tennyson is an exquisite interpreter of Beauty, he is demonstrably in The Princess very largely a poet of the True. It will be helpful, if time can be found for the work, to transfer a few expressions, in each lesson, from the second to the third interpretative form, and vice versa. Nothing will serve better as a rhetorical exercise than to reduce a given paragraph to complete prose, and in turn to raise the prosaic expres- sions in it to the interpretative level. It is hardly to be expected that teachers will rrave at command all the time necessary to make an average pupil understand the differ- ence between common prose and aesthetic diction like Tennyson's. But a few lessons will be of life-long value in fixing the boundaries of true poetry as distinguished, on the one hand, from mere verse, and from abnormal and unreposeful experiments like Maud upon the other. The book has been planned to suit various kinds of intensive study, from the more hasty and superficial secondary reading, to critical college mastery of the whole. The character-work in The Princess is unusually artistic and complete, and is worthy of more attention than is SUGGESTIONS FOR STUDY lix given ordinarily to this part of the study. Every person named in the poem is conceived and pictured fully both in kind and in degree of traits; and each of these should be brought to the recognition of the learner. Some inadvertent characterization of the author himself, as well as several slips and inconsistencies, will probably be brought incidentally to the student's mind. These of course constitute no legitimate source of interest, yet may be utilized while the class is finding the governing sentiment and inspiration of the whole. Only the more obvious traits and differences of character have been worked into the reach of pupils by the outlines. The vision and condensation of the poem will allow consider- able supplemental study, if the teacher is minded to extend the interpretation. For example, take (II. 250- 255) this passage: ' Are you that Psyche,' Florian ask'd, ' to whom, In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn Came flying while you sat beside the well ? The creature laid his muzzle in your lap, And sobb'd, and you sobb'd with it, and the blood Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept.' Such pupils as are ordinarily set to read The Princess can compass little more than the prosaic or surface meanings here, and unless helped will forever miss what the lines are meant to picture. Let the instructor reduce the unit by submitting an outline like this: ' Was this fawn, when it received its hurt, in the primeval forest, or where ? ' ' Was it struck by a poacher ? ' 'Is it hit with an arrow because the time is mediaeval, and there are as yet no guns to hunt with ? ' ' What sort of a wound, how deep 1 X SUGGES TIONS FOR STUDY must have been the hurt, merely to sprinkle Psyche's gown ? ' Thus will be brought out, and without harm pedagogically from the aid, that Psyche's pet must have been hit accidentally by the discharge of a toy-weapon in the hands of Florian or one of his companions, while they were playing rather too excitedly at hunting deer. The picture of this idyllic scene in the " lawn" of Florian's father becomes vivid and complete, much as it must have shaped itself in the author's mind. With this comes also a realization of Psyche's domestic and motherly nature, as measured by the sympathy which the fawn has hitherto enjoyed, and flees now to secure. Similarly, among other topics, the eventual fondness between the Princess and the Prince's father, merely touched upon in the outlines, might be brought into reach of the student's discerning powers. If the question analyses are used, it is strongly recom- mended that at least occasionally the exercises based on them should be written out, and the potential meanings developed fully by the pupil. It is growing more and more clear that the learner who would become waywise in literature must proceed pen in hand, and work to the bottom of his inchoate impressions. Much good will come from having the questions made the basis of oral work, provided that time can be taken for discussion of the points involved. Finally, in the reviews set upon the work, there should be attention paid to the residues of meaning left just beneath the surface by the outline aids. In all literature teaching, the instructor should see to it that the intuitive faculties, which alone spiritually discern, are kept in exercise and made to grow. SUGGES7V0NS FOR STUDY Ixi Supplementary Reading. It is probably not well, in most cases, until some direct acquaintance with an author has been reached, to put into the hands of students criticisms or estimates of his work. Young people do not want, and indeed cannot easily appropriate, second-hand impressions of personality. After they have formed conceptions of their own, they are generally glad to have these corrected or re-enforced. What is true of excellence or worth of character in outside life is largely true of the same in the world of books. Some of the most available literature for supplemental study of The Princess and of Tennyson should be pre- scribed in all thorough courses; and every high school where the poem is taught should have, besides a biog- raphy of the poet, at least half a dozen of his commen- tators. A somewhat larger library of reference would include Van Dyke's Poetry of Tennyson ; Stopford A. Brooke's Tennyson, his Art and Relation to Modern Life ; J. C. Walters' s Studies of the Life, Work and Teaching of the Poet Laureate ; Mrs. Anne I. Ritchie's Records of Tennyson, Ruskin, Browning ; Elizabeth L. Carey's Tennyson : his Homes, his Friends, and his Work ; Morton Luce's Handbook to the Works of Alfred Tennyson ; George Willis Cooke's Poets and Problems ; E. C. Tainsh's Study of the Works of Alfred Tennyson; Edward Dowden's Studies in Literature ; Charles Kingsley's Literary Essays ; George Brimley's Essays ; Edmund Gosse's Early Vic- torian Literature ; and E. C. Stedman's Victorian Poets. THE PRINCESS PROLOGUE. Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun Up to the people : thither flock'd at noon His tenants, wife and child, and thither half The neighboring borough with their Institute Of which he was the patron. I was there From college, visiting the son, — the son A Walter too, — with others of our set, Five others : we were seven at Vivian-place. And me that morning Walter show'd the house, Greek, set with busts : from vases in the hall Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, Grew side by side ; and on the pavement lay Carv'd stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park, Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time ; And on the tables every clime and age Jumbled together ; celts and calumets, Claymore and snow-shoe, toys in lava, fans Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries, Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere, The curs' d Malayan crease, and battle-clubs From the isles of palm : and higher on the walls, 2 THE PRINCESS [prologue Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer, His own forefathers' arms and armor hung. And ' this.' he said, ' was Hugh's at Agincourt; 25 And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon : A good knight he ! We keep a chronicle With all about him,' — which he brought, and I Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights, Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings 30 Who laid about them at their wills and died ; And mix'd with these a lady, one that arm'd Her own fair head, and sallying thro' the gate, Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls. 1 O miracle of women,' said the book, 35 ' O noble heart who, being strait-besieg'd By this wild king to force her to his wish, Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunn'd a soldier's death, But now when all was lost or seem'd as lost — Her stature more than mortal in the burst 4° Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire — Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate, And, falling on them like a thunderbolt. She trampled some beneath her horses' heels, And some were whelm' d with missiles of the wall, 45 And some were push'd with lances from the rock, And part were drown'd within the whirling brook: O miracle of noble womanhood ! ' So sang the gallant glorious chronicle; And, I all rapt in this, ' Come out, ' he said, 50 ' To the Abbey: there is Aunt Elizabeth And sister Lilia with the rest. ' We went *' prologue] A MEDLEY 3 (I kept the book and had my finger in it) Down thro' the park. Strange was the sight to me; For all the sloping passture murmur'd, sown 55 With happy faces and with holiday. There mov'd the multitude, a thousand heads: The patient leaders of their Institute Taught them with facts. One rear'd a font of stone And drew, from butts of water on the slope, 60 The fountain of the moment, playing, now A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls, Or steep-up spout whereon the gilded ball Danc'd like a wisp: and somewhat lower down A man with knobs and wires and vials fired 65 A cannon; Echo answer' d in her sleep From hollow fields. And here were telescopes For azure views; and there a group of girls In circle waited, whom the electric shock Dislinked with shrieks and laughter. Round the lake 70 A little clock-work steamer paddling plied And shook the lilies: perch'd about the knolls, A dozen angry models jetted steam: A petty railway ran. A fire-balloon Rose gem-like up before the dusky groves 75 And dropp'd a fairy parachute and pass'd: And there thro' twenty posts of telegraph They flash' d a saucy message to and fro Between the mimic stations; so that sport Went hand in hand with science. Otherwhere 80 Pure sport: a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd And stump'd the wicket; babies roll'd about Like tumbled fruit in grass ; and men and maids Arrang'd a country dance, and flew thro' light And shadow, while the twangling violin 85 4 THE PRINCESS [prologue Struck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end. Strange was the sight and smacking of the time; And long we gaz'd, but satiated at length 90 Came to the ruins. High-arch'd and ivy-clasp'd, Of finest Gothic lighter than a fire, Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave The park, the crowd, the house; but all within The sward was trim as any garden lawn. , 95 And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, And Lilia with- the rest, and lady friends From neighbor seats; and there was Ralph himself, A broken statue propp'd against the wall, As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport, 100 Half child, half woman as she was, had wound A scarf of orange round the stony helm, And robed the shoulders in a rosy silk, That made the old warrior from his ivied nook Glow like a sunbeam : near his tomb a feast 105 Shone, silver-set. About it lay the guests, And there we join'd them: then the maiden Aunt Took this fair day for text, and from it preach 'd An universal culture for the crowd, And all things great. But we, unworthier, told no Of college: he had climb'd across the spikes, And he had squeez'd himself betwixt the bars, And he had breath 'd the Proctor's dogs; and one Discuss' d his tutor, rough to common men, But honeying at the whisper of a lord; 115 And one the Master, as a rogue in grain Veneer' d with sanctimonious theory. prologue] A MEDLEY 5 But while they talk'd, above their heads I saw The feudal warrior lady-clad ; which brought My book to mind : and opening this I read 120 Of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang With tilt and tourney. Then the tale of her That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls; And much I prais'd her nobleness: and ' Where,' Ask'd Walter, patting Lilia's head (she lay 125 Beside him), ' lives there such a woman now ? ' Quick answer' d Lilia, ' There are thousands now Such women, but convention beats them down. It is but bringing up; no more than that. You men have done it. How I hate you all! 130 Ah, were I something great ! I wish I were Some mighty poetess, I would shame you then, That love to keep us children! O I wish That I were some great princess! I would build Far off from men a college like a man's, 135 And I would teach them all that men are taught. We are twice as quick! ' And here she shook aside The hand that play'd the patron with her curls. And one said smiling, ' Pretty were the sight If our old halls could change their sex, and flaunt 140 With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. I think they should not wear our rusty gowns, But move as rich as Emperor-moths, or Ralph Who shines so in the corner. Yet I fear, 145 If there were many Lilias in the brood, However deep you might embower the nest, Some boy would spy it. ' 6 THE PRINCESS [prologue At this upon the sward She tapp'd her tiny silken-sandal' d foot: ' That's your light way. But I would make it death 150 For any male thing but to peep at us. ' Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh 'd: A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she. But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her, 155 And ' petty Ogress, ' and ' ungrateful Puss, ' And swore he long'd at college, — only long'd, All else was well, for she-society. They boated and they cricketed; they talk'd At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics; 160 They lost their weeks; they vex'd the souls of deans; They rode; they betted; made a hundred friends, And caught the blossom of the flying terms, But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place, The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke, 165 Part banter, part affection. 1 True, ' she said, ' We doubt not that. O yes, you miss'd us much. I '11 stake my ruby ring upon it you did.' She held it out; and as a parrot turns Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving eye, 170 And takes a lady's finger with all care, And bites it for true heart and not for harm, So he with Lilia' s. Daintily she shriek 'd And wrung it. ' Doubt my word again ! ' he said. 1 Come, listen! Here is proof that you were miss'd: 175 We seven stay'd at Christmas up to read; And there we took one tutor as to read. prologue] A MEDLEY J The hard-grain'd Muses of the cube and square Were out of season : never man, I think, So moulder'd in a sinecure as he. 180 For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet, And our long walks were stripp'd as bare as brooms, We did but talk you over, pledge you all In wassail ; often, like as many girls — Sick for the hollies and the yews of home — 185 As many little trifling Lilias — play'd Charades and riddles as at Christmas here, And What 's my Thought, and When and Where and How, And often told a tale from mouth to mouth As here at Christmas. ' She remember' d that. 190 A pleasant game, she thought. She liked it more Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest. But these — what kind of tales did men tell men, She wonder'd, by themselves ? A half-disdain Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips; 195 And Walter nodded at me: 'He began, The rest would follow, each in turn; and so We forg'd a sevenfold story. Kind ? what kind ? Chimeras, crotchets, Christmas solecisms, Seven-headed monsters only made to kill 200 Time by the fire in winter. ' ' Kill him now, The tyrant ! kill him in the summer too, ' Said Lilia ; ' Why not now ? ' the maiden Aunt. ' Why not a summer's as a winter's tale ? A tale for summer as befits the time, 205 And something it should be to suit the place, Heroic, for a hero lies beneath, 8 THE PRINCESS [prologue Grave, solemn ! ' Walter warp'd his mouth at this To something so mock-solemn, that I laugh 'd And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth 210 An echo like a ghostly woodpecker, Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt (A little sense of wrong had touch" d her face With color) turn'd to me with ' As you will; Heroic if you will, or what you will, 215 Or be yourself your hero if you will. ' ' Take Lilia, then, for heroine/ clamor'd he, ' And make her some great Princess, six feet high, Grand, epic, homicidal ; and be you The Prince to win her! ' - Then follow me, the Prince, ' 220 I answer' d, ' each be hero in his turn! Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream. Heroic seems our Princess as required, — But something made to suit with time and place, A Gothic ruin and a Grecian house, 225 A talk of college and of ladies' rights, A feudal knight in silken masquerade, And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them all, — This were a medley ! We should have him back 230 Who told the " Winter's Tale " to do it for us. No matter : we will say whatever comes; And let the ladies sing us, if they will, From time to time, some ballad or a song To give us breathing-space. ' So I began, 235 And the rest follow'd; and the women sang canto i] A MEDLEY 9 Between the rougher voices of the men, Like linnets in the pauses of the wind : And here I give the story and the songs. I. A Prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, Of temper amorous, as the first of May, With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl ; For on my cradle shone the Northern star. There liv'd an ancient legend in our house. 5 Some sorcerer, whom a far-off grandsire burnt Because he cast no shadow, had foretold, Dying, that none of all our blood should know The shadow from the substance, and that one Should come to fight with shadows and to fall ; 10 For so, my mother said, the story ran. And, truly, waking dreams were, more or less, An old and strange affection of the house. Myself too had weird seizures, Heaven knows what. On a sudden in the midst of men and day, 15 And while I walk'd and talk'd as heretofore, I seem'd to move among a world of ghosts, And feel myself the shadow of a dream. Our great court-Galen pois'd his gilt-head cane, And paw'd his beard, and mutter'd ' catalepsy.' 20 My mother pitying made a thousand prayers; My mother was as mild as any saint, Half-canoniz'd by all that look'd on her, So gracious was her tact and tenderness. But my good father thought a king a king. 25 He card not for the affection of the house. 10 THE PRINCESS [canto i He held his sceptre like a pedant's wand To Lash offence, and with long arms and hands Reach 'd out, and pick'd offenders from the mass For judgment. Now it chanc'd that I had been, 30 While life was yet in bud and blade, betroth 'd To one, a neighboring Princess: she to me Was proxy-wedded with a bootless calf At eight years old; and still from time to time Came murmurs of her beauty from the South, 35 And of her brethren, youths of puissance. And still I wore her picture by my heart, And one dark tress; and all around them both Sweet thoughts would swarm as bees about their queen. But when the days drew nigh that I should wed, 40 My father sent ambassadors with furs And jewels, gifts, to fetch her. These brought back A present, a great labor of the loom; And therewithal an answer vague as wind. Besides, they saw the king; he took the gifts. 45 He said there was a compact ; that was true. But then she had a will : was he to blame ? And maiden fancies; lov'd to live alone Among her women; certain, would not we^. That morning in the presence room I stood 50 With Cyril and with Florian, my two friends; The first, a gentleman of broken means (His father's fault) but given to starts and bursts Of revel; and the last, my other heart, And almost my half-self, for still we mov'd 55 Together, twinn'd as horse's ear and eye. canto i] A MEDLEY II Now, while they spake, I saw my father's face Grow long and troubled like a rising moon, Inflamed with wrath. He started on his feet, Tore the king's letter, snow'd it down, and rent 60 The wonder of the loom thro' warp and woof From skirt to skirt; and at the last he sware That he would send a hundred thousand men, And bring her in a whirlwind. Then he chew'd The thrice-turn'd cud of wrath, and cook'd his spleen, 65 Communing with his captains of the war. At last I spoke : ' My father, let me go. It cannot be but some gross error lies In this report, this answer of a king, Whom all men rate as kind and hospitable. 70 Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen, Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame, May rue the bargain made. ' And Florian said : 1 I have a sister at the foreign court Who moves about the Princess; she, you know, 75 Who wedded with a nobleman from thence. He, dying lately, left her, as I hear, The lady of three castles in that land. Thro' her this matter might be sifted clean. ' And Cyril whisper' d, ' Take me with you too.' 80 Then laughing, ' What, if these weird seizures come Upon you in those lands, and no one near To point you out the shadow from the truth ! Take me. I '11 serve you better in a strait; I grate on rusty hinges here.' But ' No! ' 85 Roar'd the rough king, ' you shall not! We ourself Will crush her pretty maiden fancies dead In iron gauntlets. Break the council up. ' 12 THE PRINCESS [canto I But when the council broke, I rose and pass'd Thro' the wild woods that hung about the town; 90 Found a still place, and pluck'd her likeness out; Laid it on flowers, and watch 'd it lying bathed In the green gleam of dewy-tassell'd trees. What were those fancies ? Wherefore break her troth ? Proud look'd the lips. But while I meditated, 95 A wind arose and rush'd upon the South, And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks Of the wild woods together; and a Voice Went with it, ' Follow, follow, thou shalt win.' Then, ere the silver sickle of that month 100 Became her golden shield, I stole from court With Cyril and with Florian, unperceiv'd, Cat-footed thro' the town and half in dread To hear my father's clamor at our backs With ' Ho ! ' from some bay-window shake the night. 105 But all was quiet. From the bastion 'd walls, Like threaded spiders, one by one, we dropp'd And flying reach'd the frontier. Then we cross'd To a livelier land ; and so by tilth and grange, And vines, and blowing bosks of wilderness, no We gain'd the mother-city thick with towers, And in the imperial palace found the king. His name was Gama: crack'd and small his voice, But bland the smile that like a wrinkling wind On glassy water drove his cheek in lines; "5 A little dry old man, without a star, Not like a king. Three days he feasted us, And on the fourth I spake of why we came, And my betroth' d. ' You do us, Prince,' he said, canto ij A MEDLEY 1 3 Airing a snowy hand and signet gem, 120 ' All honor. We remember love ourselves In our sweet youth. There did a compact pass, Long summers back, a kind of ceremony, — I think the year in which our olives fail'd. I would you had her, Prince, with all my heart, 125 With my full heart. But there were widows here, Two widows, Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche. They fed her theories, in and out of place Maintaining that with equal husbandry The woman were an equal to the man. 130 They harp'd on this; with this our banquets rang; Our dances broke and buzz'd in knots of talk; Nothing but this : my very ears were hot To hear them. Knowledge, so my daughter held, Was all in all. They had but been, she thought, 135 As children; they must lose the child, assume The woman. Then, Sir, awful odes she wrote, Too awful, sure, for what they treated of, — But all she is and does is awful ; odes About this losing of the child; and rhymes 140 And dismal lyrics, prophesying change Beyond all reason. These the women sang; And they that know such things — I sought but peace; No critic I — would call them masterpieces. They master' d me. At last she begg'd a boon, 145 A certain summer-palace which I have Hard by your father's frontier. I said no, Yet being an easy man, gave it; and there, All wild to found a University For maidens, on the spur she fled. And more 150 We know not, — only this: they see no men, Not even her brother Arac, nor the twins 14 THE PRINCESS [canto i Her brethren, tho' they love her, look upon her As on a kind of paragon. And I (Pardon me saying it) were much loth to breed i55 Dispute betwixt myself and mine. But since (And I confess with right) you think me bound In some sort, I can give you letters to her; And yet, to speak the truth, I rate your chance Almost at naked nothing.' Thus the king. 160 And I, tho' nettled that he seem'd to slur With garrulous ease and oily courtesies Our formal compact, yet, not less (all frets But chafing me on fire to find my bride) Went forth again with both my friends. We rode 165 Many a long league back to the North. At last From hills, that look'd across a land of hope, W T e dropp'd with evening on a rustic town Set in a gleaming river's crescent-curve, Close at the boundary of the liberties; i7° There, enter' d an old hostel, call'd mine host To council, plied him with his richest wines, And show'd the late-writ letters of the king. He with a long low sibilation, stared As blank as death in marble; then exclaim'd, i75 Averring it was clear against all rules For any man to go. But as his brain Began to mellow, ' If the king, ' he said, ' Had given us letters, was he bound to speak ? The king would bear him out; ' and at the last — 180 The summer of the vine in all his veins — ' No doubt that we might make it worth his while. She once had pass'd that way; he heard her speak. canto i] A MEDLEY 1$ She scared him. Life ! he never saw the like : She look'd as grand as doomsday and as grave. 185 And he, he reverenc'd his liege-lady there. He always made a point to post with mares; His daughter and his housemaid were the boys. The land, he understood, for miles about Was till'd by women. All the swine were sows, 19° And all the dogs ' — But while he jested thus, A thought flash'd thro' me which I clothed in act, Remembering how we three presented Maid, Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of feast, In masque or pageant at my father's court. 195 We sent mine host to purchase female gear. He brought it, and himself, a sight to shake The midriff of despair with laughter, holp To lace us up, till each in maiden plumes We rustled. Him we gave a costly bribe 200 To guerdon silence, mounted our good steeds, And boldly ventur'd on the liberties. We follow' d up the river as we rode, And rode till midnight, when the college lights Began to glitter firefly-like in copse 205 And linden alley. Then we pass'd an arch, Whereon a woman-statue rose with wings From four wing'd horses dark against the stars; And some inscription ran along the front, But deep in shadow. Further on we gain'd 210 A little street half garden and half house, But scarce could hear each other speak for noise Of clocks and chimes, like silver hammers falling On silver anvils, and the splash and stir 1 6 THE PRINCESS [canto i Of fountains spouted up and showering down 215 In meshes of the jasmine and the rose; And all about us peal'd the nightingale, Rapt in her song, and careless of the snare. There stood a bust of Pallas for a sign, By two sphere lamps blazon' d like Heaven and Earth 220 With constellation and with continent, Above an entry. Riding in, we call'd. A plump-arm' d ostleress and a stable wench Came running at the call, and help'd us down. Then stepp'd a buxom hostess forth, and sail'd, 225 Full-blown, before us into rooms which gave Upon a pillar'd porch, the bases lost In laurel. Her we ask'd of that and this, And who were tutors. ' Lady Blanche, ' she said, ' And Lady Psyche. ' ' Which was prettiest, 230 Best-natur'd ? ' ' Lady Psyche.' ' Hers are we,' One voice, we cried; and I sat down and wrote, In such a hand as when a field of corn Bows all its ears before the roaring East ' Three ladies of the Northern empire pray 235 Your Highness would enroll them with your own, As Lady Psyche's pupils.' This I seal'd: The seal was Cupid bent above a scroll, And o'er his head Uranian Venus hung, And rais'd the blinding bandage from his eyes. 240 I gave the letter to be sent with dawn ; And then to bed, where half in doze I seem'd To float about a glimmering night, and watch A full sea glazed with muffled moonlight swell On some dark shore just seen that it was rich. 245 canto n] A MEDLEY 17 As thro' the land at eve we went, And pluck'd the ripen' d ears, We fell out, my wife and I, we fell out I know not why, And kiss'd again with tears. And blessings on the falling out That all the more endears, When we fall out with those we love And kiss again with tears ! For when we came where lies the child We lost in other years, There above the little grave, O there above the little grave, We kiss'd again with tears. II. At break of day the College Portress came. She brought us Academic silks, in hue The lilac, with a silken hood to each, And zoned with gold; and now when these were on, And we as rich as moths from dusk cocoons, 5 She, curtseying her obeisance, let us know The Princess Ida waited. Out we paced, I first, and following thro' the porch that sang All round w T ith laurel, issu'd in a court Compact of lucid marbles, boss'd with lengths 10 Of classic frieze, with ample awnings gay Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers. The Muses and the Graces, group' d in threes, Enring'd a billowing fountain in the midst; And here and there on lattice edges lay 15 Or book or lute. But hastily we pass'd, And up a flight of stairs into the hall. 1 8 THE PRINCESS [canto ii There at a board by tome and paper sat, With two tame leopards couch'd beside her throne, All beauty compass' d in a female form, 20 The Princess; liker to the inhabitant Of some clear planet close upon the Sun, Than our man's earth: such eyes were in her head, And so much grace and power, breathing down From over her arch'd brows, with every turn 25 Lived thro' her to the tips of her long hands, And to her feet. She rose her height, and said : ' We give you welcome. Not without redound Of use and glory to yourselves ye come, The first-fruits of the stranger. Aftertime, * 30 And that full voice which circles round the grave, Will rank you nobly, mingled up with me. — What! are the ladies of your land so tall ? ' ' We of the court, ' said Cyril. ' From the court ! ' She answer'd. ' Then ye know the Prince ? ' And he: ! The climax of his age! As tho' there were 36 One rose in all the world, your Highness that. He worships your ideal. ' She replied : ' We scarcely thought in our own hall to hear This barren verbiage, current among men, 40 Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment. Your flight from out your bookless wilds would seem As arguing love of knowledge and of power; Your language proves you still the child. Indeed, We dream not of him. When we set our hand 45 To this great work, we purpos'd with ourself Never to wed. You likewise will do well, Ladies, in entering here, to cast and fling The tricks which make us toys of men, that so, canto n] A MEDLEY 1 9 Some future time, if so indeed you will, 50 You may with those self-styl'd our lords ally Your fortunes, justlier balanc'd, scale with scale.' At those high words, we, conscious of ourselves, Perus'd the matting. Then an officer Rose up, and read the statutes, such as these: 55 Not for three years to correspond with home; Not for three years to cross the liberties; Not for three years to speak with any men ; And many more, which hastily subscribed, We enter' d on the boards. And ' Now,' she cried, 60 1 Ye are green wood, see ye warp not. Look, our hall ! Our statues ! — Not of those that men desire, Sleek Odalisques, or oracles of mode, Nor stunted squaws of West or East; but she That taught the Sabine how to rule, and she 65 The foundress of the Babylonian wall, The Carian Artemisia strong in war, The Rhodope that built the pyramid, Clelia, Cornelia, with the Palmyrene That fought Aurelian, and the Roman brows 70 Of Agrippina. Dwell with these, and lose Convention, since to look on noble forms Makes noble thro' the sensuous organism That which is higher. O lift your natures up ; Embrace our aims; work out your freedom. Girls, 75 Knowledge is now no more a fountain seal'd! Drink deep, until the habits of the slave, The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite And slander, die. Better not be at all Than not be noble. Leave us; you may go, 80 To-day the Lady Psyche will harangue 20 THE PRINCESS [canto ii The fresh arrivals of the week before; For they press in from all the provinces, And fill the hive. ' She spoke, and bowing waved Dismissal. Back again we cross' d the court 85 To Lady Psyche's. As we enter' d in, There sat along the forms, like morning doves That sun their milky bosoms on the thatch, A patient range of pupils; she herself Erect behind a desk of satin-wood, 9° A quick brunette, well-moulded, falcon-eyed, And on the hither side, or so she look'd, Of twenty summers. At her left, a child, In shining draperies, headed like a star, Her maiden babe, a double April old, 95 Aglaia slept. We sat. The Lady glanced. Then Florian, but no livelier than the dame That whisper' d ' Asses' ears ' among the sedge, — 1 My sister.' ' Comely, too, by all that "s fair,' Said Cyril. ' O hush, hush! ' and she began. 100 ' This world was once a fluid haze of light, Till toward the centre set the starry tides, And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast The planets: then the monster, then the man; Tattoo' d or woaded, winter-clad in skins, 105 Raw from the prime, and crushing down his mate; As j r et we find in barbarous isles, and here Among the lowest. ' Thereupon she took A bird's-eye view of all the ungracious past; Glanc'd at the legendary Amazon no As emblematic of a nobler age; canto n] A MEDLEY 21 Apprais'd the Lycian custom, spoke of those That lay at wine with Lar and Lucumo; Ran down the Persian, Grecian, Roman lines Of empire, and the woman's state in each, 115 How far from just; till warming with her theme She fulmin'd out her scorn of laws Salique And little-footed China, touch'd on Mahomet With much contempt, and came to chivalry; When some respect, however slight, was paid 120 To woman, superstition all awry. However, then commenced the dawn: a beam Had slanted forward, falling in a land Of promise; fruit would follow. Deep, indeed, Their debt of thanks to her who first had dared 125 To leap the rotten pales of prejudice, Disyoke their necks from custom, and assert None lordlier than themselves but that which made Woman and man. She had founded ; they must build. Here might they learn whatever men were taught; 130 Let them not fear. Some said their heads were less. Some men's were small; not they the least of men; For often fineness compensated size. Besides the brain was like the hand, and grew With using; thence the man's, if more was more. 135 He took advantage of his strength to be First in the field. Some ages had been lost; But woman ripen 'd earlier, and her life Was longer. And albeit their glorious names Were fewer, scatter' d stars, yet since in truth 14° The highest is the measure of the man, And not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, Nor those horn-handed breakers of the glebe, But Homer, Plato, Verulam: even so 22 THE PRINCESS [canto II With woman : and in arts of government i45 Elizabeth and others; arts of war The peasant Joan and others ; arts of grace Sappho and others vied with any man; And, last not least, she who had left her place, And bow'd her state to them, that they might grow 150 To use and power on this Oasis, lapp'd In the arms of leisure, sacred from the blight Of ancient influence and scorn. At last She rose upon a wind of prophecy Dilating on the future: ' Everywhere 155 Two heads in council, two beside the hearth, Two in the tangled business of the world, Two in the liberal offices of life, Two plummets dropp'd for one, to sound the abyss Of science and the secrets of the mind ; 160 Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more; And everywhere the broad and bounteous Earth Should bear a double growth of those rare souls, Poets, whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world. ' She ended here, and beckon 'd us. The rest 165 Parted; and, glowing full-faced welcome, she Began to address us, and was moving on In gratulation, till as when a boat Tacks and the slacken'd sail flaps, all her voice Faltering and fluttering in her throat, she cried, 170 ' My brother! ' ' Well, my sister.' ' O,' she said, ' What do you here ? And in this dress ? And these ? Why, who are these ? A wolf within the fold ! A pack of wolves ! The Lord be gracious to me ! A plot, a plot, a plot, to ruin all! ' 175 canto n] A MEDLEY 2$ ' No plot, no plot,' he answer' d. ' Wretched boy, How saw you not the inscription on the gate, Let no man enter in on pain of death ? ' ' And if I had,' he answer' d, ' who could think The softer Adams of your Academe, 180 sister, Sirens tho' they be, were such As chanted on the blanching bones of men ? ' ' But you will find it otherwise, ' she said. ' You jest: ill jesting with edge-tools! My vow Binds me to speak, and O that iron will, 185 That axelike edge unturnable, our Head, The Princess! ' ' Well then, Psyche, take my life, And nail me like a weasel on a grange For warning. Bury me beside the gate, And cut this epitaph above my bones : 190 Here lies a brother by a sister slain, All for the common good of womankind. 1 ' Let me die too, ' said Cyril, ' having seen And heard the Lady Psyche. ' I struck in. ' Albeit so mask'd, Madam, I love the truth. 195 Receive it; and in me behold the Prince Your countryman, affianc'd years ago To the Lady Ida. Here, for here she was, And thus (what other way was left ?) I came. ' ' O Sir, O Prince, I have no country, none ; 200 If any, this; but none. Whate'er I was Disrooted, what I am is grafted here. Affianc'd, Sir ? love-whispers may not breathe Within this vestal limit, and how should I, Who am not mine, say, live. The thunderbolt 205 Hangs silent; but prepare. I speak; it falls.' 1 Yet pause, ' I said. ' For that inscription there, 24 THE PRINCESS [canto II I think no more of deadly lurks therein, Than in a clapper clapping in a garth, To scare the fowl from fruit. If more there be, 210 If more and acted on, what follows ? War; Your own work marr'd: for this your Academe, Whichever side be victor, in the halloo Will topple to the trumpet down, and pass With all fair theories only made to gild 215 A stormless summer.' ' Let the Princess judge Of that,' she said. ' Farewell, Sir — and to you. I shudder at the sequel, but I go. ' ' Are you that Lady Psyche, ' I rejoin'd, 1 The fifth in line from that old Florian, . 220 Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall (The gaunt old baron with his beetle brow Sun-shaded in the heat of dusty fights) As he bestrode my grandsire, when he fell, And all else fled ? We point to it, and we say, 225 The loyal warmth of Florian is not cold, But branches current yet in kindred veins. ' ' Are you that Psyche,' Florian added; ' she With whom I sang about the morning hills, Flung ball, flew kite, and raced the purple fly, 230 And snared the squirrel of the glen ? Are you That Psyche, wont to bind my throbbing brow, To smooth my pillow, mix the foaming draught Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and read My sickness down to happy dreams ? Are you 235 That brother-sister Psyche, both in one ? You were that Psyche, but what are you now ? ' 1 You are that Psyche, ' Cyril said, ' for whom I would be that forever which I seem, canto 11] A MEDLEY 25 Woman, if I might sit beside your feet, 240 And glean your scatter'd sapience.' Then once more, 1 Are you that Lady Psyche, ' I began, ' That on her bridal morn before she pass'd From all her old companions, when the king Kiss'd her pale cheek, declar'd that ancient ties 245 Would still be dear beyond the southern hills; That were there any of our people there In want or peril, there was one to hear And help them ? Look ! for such are these and I. ' ' Are you that Psyche,' Florian ask'd, ' to whom, 250 In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn Came flying while you sat beside the well ? The creature laid his muzzle on your lap, And sobb'd, and you sobb'd with it, and the blood Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept. 255 That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept. by the bright head of my little niece, You were that Psyche, and what are you now ? ' 1 You are that Psyche, ' Cyril said again, 1 The mother of the sweetest little maid 260 That ever crow'd for kisses.' ' Out upon it! ' She answer' d, ' peace! And why should I not play The Spartan Mother with emotion, be The Lucius Junius Brutus of my kind ? Him you call great. He for the common weal, 265 The fading politics of mortal Rome, As I might slay this child, if good need were, Slew both his sons: and I, shall I, on whom The secular emancipation turns Of half this world, be swerv'd from right to save 270 26 THE PRINCESS [canto ii A prince, a brother ? A little will I yield. Best so, perchance, for us, and well for you. hard, when love and duty clash ! I fear My conscience will not count me fleckless; yet — Hear my conditions : promise (otherwise 275 You perish) as you came, to slip away To-day, to-morrow, soon. It shall be said, These women were too barbarous, would not learn; They fled, who might have shamed us. Promise, all.' What could we else, we promis'd each; and she, 280 Like some wild creature newly-caged, commenc'd A to-and-fro, so pacing till she paus'd By Florian; holding out her lily arms Took both his hands, and smiling faintly said : ' I knew you at the first. Tho' you have grown 2S5 You scarce have alter' d. I am sad and glad To see you, Florian. / give thee to death, My brother! It was duty spoke, not I. My needful seeming harshness, pardon it. Our mother, is she well ? ' With that she kiss'd 290 His forehead, then, a moment after, clung About him, and betwixt them blossom' d up From out a common vein of memory Sweet household talk, and phrases of the hearth, And far allusion, till the gracious dews 295 Began to glisten and to fall. And while They stood, so rapt, we gazing, came a voice, ' I brought a message here from Lady Blanche. ' Back started she, and turning round we saw The Lady Blanche's daughter where she stood. 300 Melissa, with her hand upon the lock, canto 11] A MEDLEY 2J A rosy blonde, and in a college gown, That clad her like an April daffodilly (Her mother's color), with her lips apart, And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes, 305 As bottom agates seen to wave and float In crystal currents of clear morning seas. So stood that same fair creature at the door. Then Lady Psyche, ' Ah — Melissa — you ! You heard us ? ' And Melissa, ' O pardon me! 310 I heard, I could not help it, did not wish. But, dearest Lady, pray you fear me not, Nor think I bear that heart within my breast, To give three gallant gentlemen to death. ' ' I trust you,' said the other, ' for we two 315 Were always friends, none closer, elm and vine; But yet your mother's jealous temperament — Let not your prudence, dearest, drowse, or prove The Dana'id of a leaky vase, for fear This whole foundation ruin, and I lose 320 My honor, these their lives.' ' Ah, fear me not,' Replied Melissa; ' no — I would not tell, No, not for all Aspasia's cleverness, No, not to answer, Madam, all those hard things That Sheba came to ask of Solomon. ' 325 ' Be it so, ' the other, ' that we still may lead The new light up, and culminate in peace, For Solomon may come to Sheba yet. ' Said Cyril, ' Madam, he the wises^ man Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls 330 Of Lebanonian cedar; nor should you (Tho' Madam, you should answer, we would ask) Less welcome find among us, if you came 28 THE PRINCESS [canto ii Among us, debtors for our lives to you, Myself for something more. ' He said not what, 335 But ' Thanks, ' she answer' d, ' go. We have been too long Together. Keep your hoods about the face; They do so that affect abstraction here. Speak little; mix not with the rest; and hold Your promise. All, I trust, may yet be well. ' 340 We turn'd to go, but Cyril took the child, And held her round the knees against his waist, And blew the swollen cheek of a trumpeter, While Psyche watch 'd them, smiling, and the child Push'd her flat hand against his face and laugh' d; 345 And thus our conference closed. And then we stroll 'd For half the day thro' stately theatres Bench 'd crescent-wise. In each we sat, we heard The grave Professor. On the lecture slate The circle rounded under female hands 35° W r ith flawless demonstration. Follow' d then A classic lecture, rich in sentiment, With scraps of thunderous epic lilted out By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies And quoted odes, and jewels five-words-long 355 That on the stretch 'd forefinger of all Time Sparkle forever. Then we dipp'd in all That treats of whatsoever is, the state, The total chronicles of man, the mind, The morals, something of the frame, the rock, 360 The star, the bird, the fish, the shell, the flower, Electric, chemic laws, and all the rest, And whatsoever can be taught and known; Till like three horses that have broken fence, canto ii] A MEDLEY ^9 And glutted all night long breast-deep in corn, 3&5 We issu'd gorg'd with knowledge, and I spoke: ' Why, Sirs, they do all this as well as we.' ' They hunt old trails/ said Cyril, ' very well; But when did woman ever yet invent ? ' ' Ungracious! ' answer'd Florian. ' Have you learn'd 370 No more from Psyche's lecture, you that talk'd The trash that made me sick, and almost sad ? ' ' O trash, ' he said, ' but with a kernel in it ! Should I not call her wise who made me wise ? And learnt ? I learnt more from her in a flash 375 Than if my brainpan were an empty hull, And every Muse tumbled a science in. A thousand hearts lie fallow in these halls, And round these halls a thousand baby loves Fly twanging headless arrows at the hearts, 3S0 Whence follows many a vacant pang. But O With me, Sir, enter 'd in the bigger boy, The head of all the golden-shafted firm, The long-limb' d lad that had a Psyche too. He cleft me thro' the stomacher. And now, 385 What think you of it, Florian ? Do I chase The substance or the shadow ? Will it hold ? I have no sorcerer's malison on me, No ghostly hauntings like his Highness. I Flatter myself that always everywhere 39° I know the substance when I see it. Well, Are castles shadows ? Three of them ? Is she The sweet proprietress a shadow ? If not, Shall those three castles patch my tatter' d coat ? For dear are those three castles to my wants, 395 And dear is sister Psyche to my heart, And two dear things are one of double worth. 30 THE PRINCESS [canto ii And much I might have said, but that my zone Unmann'd me. Then the Doctors! to hear The Doctors! O to watch the thirsty plants 400 Imbibing! Once or twice I thought to roar, To break my chain, to shake my mane. But thou Modulate me, Soul of mincing mimicry! Make liquid treble of that bassoon, my throat. Abase those eyes that ever lov'd to meet 405 Star-sisters answering under crescent brows. Abate the stride which speaks of man, and loose A flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek, Where they like swallows coming out of time Will wonder why they came. But hark the bell 410 For dinner, let us go ! ' And in we stream' d Among the columns, pacing staid and still By twos and threes, till all from end to end With beauties every shade of brown and fair In colors gayer than the morning mist, 415 The long hall glitter' d like a bed of flowers. How might a man not wander from his wits Pi ere' d thro' with eyes, but that I kept mine own Intent on her, who rapt in glorious dreams, The second-sight of some Astraean age, 420 Sat compass' d with professors. They, the while, Discuss'd a doubt and toss'd it to and fro. A clamor thicken'd, mix'd with inmost terms Of art and science. Lady Blanche alone Of faded form and haughtiest lineaments, 425 With all her autumn tresses falsely brown, Shot sidelong daggers at us, a tiger-cat In act to spring. At last a solemn grace canto ii] A MEDLEY 3 1 Concluded, and we sought the gardens. There One walk'd reciting by herself, and one 430 In this hand held a volume as to read, And smooth' d a petted peacock down with that. Some to a low song oar'd a shallop by, Or under arches of the marble bridge Hung, shadow'd from the heat. Some hid and sought In the orange thickets. Others toss'd a ball 436 Above the fountain-jets, and back again With laughter. Others lay about the lawns, Of the older sort, and murmur* d that their May Was passing: what was learning unto them ? 440 They wish'd to marry; they could rule a house; Men hated learned women. But we three Sat muffled like the Fates; and often came Melissa hitting all we saw with shafts Of gentle satire, kin to charity, 445 That harm'd not. Then day droop'd; the chapel bells Call'd us. We left the walks; we mix'd with those Six hundred maidens clad in purest white, Before two streams of light from wall to wall, While the great organ almost burst his pipes, 450 Groaning for power, and rolling thro' the court A long melodious thunder to the sound Of solemn psalms, and silver litanies, The work of Ida, to call down from Heaven A blessing on her labors for the world. 455 Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, 32 THE PRINCESS [canto in Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. III. Mom in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and each by other dress' d with care, Descended to the court that lay three parts In shadow, but the Muses' heads were touch' d Above the darkness from their native East. There while we stood beside the fount, and watch 'd Or seem'd to watch the dancing bubble, approach 'd Melissa, ting'd with wan from lack of sleep, Or grief, and glowing round her dewy eyes 10 The circled Iris of a night of tears. ' And fly ! ' she cried, ' O fly, while yet you may ! My mother knows.' And when I ask'd her ' How,' ' My fault,' she wept, ' my fault! And yet not mine; Yet mine in part. O hear me, pardon me! 15 My mother, 't is her wont from night to night To rail at Lady Psyche and her side. She says the Princess should have been the Head, Herself and Lady Psyche the two arms; And so it was agreed when first they came. 20 canto in] A MEDLEY 33 But Lady Psyche was the right hand now, And she the left, or not or seldom used ; Hers more than half the students, all the love. And so last night she fell to canvass you. Her countrywomen ! She did not envy her. 25 ' ' Who ever saw such wild barbarians ? Girls ? — more like men ! " And at these words the snake, My secret, seem'd to stir within my breast. And O, Sirs, could I help it, but my cheek Began to burn and burn, and her lynx eye 30 To fix and make me hotter, till she laugh 'd. " O marvellously modest maiden, you! Men! girls like men! Why, if they had been men You need not set your thoughts in rubric thus For wholesale comment." Pardon, I am shamed 35 That I must needs repeat for my excuse What looks so little graceful. " Men " (for still My mother went revolving on the word), " And so they are, — very like men indeed — And with that woman closeted for hours! " 40 Then came these dreadful words out one by one, "Why — these — are — men!" I shudder'd. "And you know it ! " " O ask me nothing," I said. " And she knows too, And she conceals it." So my mother clutch'd The truth at once, but with no word from me. 45 And now thus early risen she goes to inform The Princess. Lady Psyche will be crush 'd. But you may yet be saved, and therefore fly. But heal me with your pardon ere you go. ' ' What pardon, sweet Melissa, for a blush ? ' 50 Said Cyril. ' Pale one, blush again. Than wear 34 THE PRINCESS [canto hi Those lilies, better blush our lives away. Yet let us breathe for one hour more in Heaven/ He added, ' lest some classic Angel speak In scorn of us, " They mounted, Ganymedes, 55 To tumble, Vulcans, on the second morn." But I will melt this marble into wax To yield us farther furlough. ' And he went. Melissa shook her doubtful curls, and thought He scarce would prosper. ' Tell us,' Florian ask'd, 60 1 How grew this feud betwixt the right and left. ' ! O long ago, ' she said, ' betwixt these two Division smoulders hidden. 'T is my mother, Too jealous, often fretful as the wind Pent in a crevice. Much I bear with her. 65 I never knew my father, but she says (God help her!) she was wedded to a fool. And still she rail'd against the state of things. She had the care of Lady Ida's youth, And from the Queen's decease she brought her up. 70 But when your sister came she won the heart Of Ida. They were still together, grew (For so they said themselves) inosculated : Consonant chords that shiver to one note; One mind in all things. Yet my mother still 75 Affirms your Psyche thiev'd her theories, And angled with them for her pupil's love. She calls her plagiarist; I know not what. But I must go ; I dare not tarry. ' And light, As flies the shadow of a bird, she fled. 80 Then murmur' d Florian, gazing after her, 1 An open-hearted maiden, true and pure, canto in] A MEDLEY 35 If I could love, why this were she. How pretty Her blushing was, and how she blush'd again, As if to close with Cyril's random wish! 85 Not like your Princess cramm'd with erring pride, Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow. ' ' The crane, ' I said, ' may chatter of the crane, The dove may murmur of the dove, but I An eagle clang an eagle to the sphere. 90 My princess, O my princess ! true she errs, But in her own grand way. Being herself Three times more noble than three score of men, She sees herself in every woman else, And so she wears her error like a crown 95 To blind the truth and me. For her, and her, Hebes are they to hand ambrosia, mix The nectar. But — ah, she — whene'er she moves The Samian Here rises, and she speaks A Memnon smitten with the morning sun. ' 100 So saying from the court we paced, and gain'd The terrace rang'd along the northern front, And leaning there on those balusters, high Above the empurpled champaign, drank the gale That blown about the foliage underneath, 105 And sated with the innumerable rose, Beat balm upon our eyelids. Hither came Cyril, and yawning ' O hard task, ' he cried. ' No fighting shadows here! I forc'd a way Thro' solid opposition crabb'd and gnarl'd. no Better to clear prime forests, heave and thump A league of street in summer solstice down, Than hammer at this reverend gentlewoman. 6 THE PRINCESS [canto hi I knock'd and, bidden, enter d; found her there At point to move, and settled in her eyes 115 The green malignant light of coming storm. Sir, I was courteous, every phrase well-oil' d, As man's could be; yet maiden-meek I pray'd Concealment. She demanded who we were, And why we came ? I fabled nothing fair, 120 But, your example pilot, told her all. Up went the hush'd amaze of hand and eye. But when I dwelt upon your old affiance, She answer' d sharply that I talk'd astray. 1 urg'd the fierce inscription on the gate, 125 And our three lives. True — we had limed ourselves With open eyes, and we must take the chance. But such extremes, I told her, well might harm The woman's cause. " Not more than now," she said, " So puddled as it is with favoritism." 130 I tried the mother's heart. Shame might befall Melissa, knowing, saying not she knew. Her answer was, ' ' Leave me to deal with that. I spoke of war to come and many deaths, And she replied, her duty was to speak, 135 And duty duty, clear of consequences. I grew discourag'd, Sir; but since I knew No rock so hard but that a little wave May beat admission in a thousand years, I recommenc'd. " Decide not ere you pause. 140 I find you here but in the second place, Some say the third — the authentic foundress you. I offer boldly : we will seat you highest. Wink at our advent. Help my prince to gain His rightful bride, and here I promise you 145 Some palace in our land, where you shall reign canto ml A MEDLEY 37 The head and heart of all our fair she-world, And your great name flow on with broadening time For ever." Well, she balanc'd this a little, And told me she would answer us to-day, • 150 Meantime be mute. Thus much, nor more I gain'd. ' He ceasing, came a message from the Head. 1 That afternoon the Princess rode to take The dip of certain strata to the North. Would we go with her ? We should find the land 155 Worth seeing; and the river made a fall Out yonder. ? Then she pointed on to where A double hill ran up his furrowy forks Beyond the thick-leav'd platans of the vale. Agreed to, this, the day fled on thro' all 160 Its range of duties to the appointed hour. Then summon 'd to the porch we went. She stood Among her maidens, higher by the head, Her back against a pillar, her foot on one Of those tame leopards. Kittenlike he roll'd 165 And paw'd about her sandal. I drew near; I gazed. On a sudden my strange seizure came Upon me, the weird vision of our house. The Princess Ida seem'd a hollow show, Her gay-furr'd cats a painted fantasy, 170 Her college and her maidens empty masks, And I myself the shadow of a dream, For all things were and were not. Yet I felt My heart beat thick with passion and with awe. Then from my breast the involuntary sigh 175 Brake, as she smote me with the light of eyes That lent my knee desire to kneel, and shook 3§ THE PRINCESS [canto hi My pulses, till to horse we got, and so Went forth in long retinue following up The river as it narrow'd to the hills. 180 I rode beside her and to me she said : ' O friend, we trust that you esteem 'd us not Too harsh to your companion yestermorn. Unwillingly we spake.' ' No — not to her,' I answer' d, ' but to one of whom we spake 185 Your Highness might have seem'd the thing you say. ' Again ? ' she cried. ' Are you ambassadresses From him to me ? We give you, being strange, A license. Speak, and let the topic die. ' I stammer' d that I knew him — could -have wish'd — ' Our king expects — was there no precontract ? 19 1 There is no truer-hearted — ah, you seem All he prefigur'd, and he could not see The bird of passage flying south but long'd To follow. Surely, if your Highness keep 195 Your purport, you will shock him ev'n to death, Or baser courses, children of despair.' ' Poor boy ! ' she said, ' Can he not read — no books ? Quoit, tennis, ball — no games ? nor deals in that Which men delight in, martial exercise ? 200 To nurse a blind ideal like a girl, Methinks he seems no better than a girl, — As girls were once, as we ourself have been. We had our dreams. Perhaps he mix'd with them. We touch on our dead self, nor shun to do it, 205 Being other — since we learn 'd our meaning here, To lift the woman's fall'n divinity Upon an even pedestal with man.' canto in] A MEDLEY 39 She paus'd, and added with a haughtier smile, ' And as to precontracts, we move, my friend, 210 At no man's beck, but know ourself and thee, Vashti, noble Vashti ! Summon'd out She kept her state, and left the drunken king To brawl at Shushan underneath the palms. ' 1 Alas, your Highness breathes full East,' I said, 215 ' On that which leans to you ! I know the Prince, 1 prize his truth. And then how vast a work To assail this gray pre-eminence of man ! You grant me license. Might I use it ? Think ; Ere half be done perchance your life may fail. 220 Then comes the feebler heiress of your plan, And takes and ruins all ; and thus your pains May only make that footprint upon sand Which old-recurring waves of prejudice Resmooth to nothing. Might I dread that you, 225 With only Fame for spouse and your great deeds For issue, yet may live in vain, and miss Meanwhile what every woman counts her due, Love, children, happiness ? ' And she exclaim'd, ' Peace, you young savage of the Northern wild! 230 What! Tho' your Prince's love were like a God's, Have we not made ourself the sacrifice ? You are bold indeed. We are not talk'd to thus. Yet will we say for children, would they grew Like field-flowers everywhere! We like them well. 235 But children die; and let me tell you, girl, Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die. They with the sun and moon renew their light For ever, blessing those that look on them. 40 THE PRINCESS [canto hi Children — that men may pluck them from our hearts, 240 Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves — O — children — there is nothing upon earth More miserable than she that has a son And sees him err. Nor would we w r ork for fame; Tho' she perhaps might reap the applause of Great, 245 Who learns the one pou sto whence after-hands May move the world, tho' she herself effect But little. Wherefore up and act, nor shrink For fear our solid aim be dissipated By frail successors. W r ould, indeed, we had been, 250 In lieu of many mortal flies, a race Of giants living each a thousand years, That we might see our own work out, and watch The sandy footprint harden into stone. ' I answer' d nothing, doubtful in myself 255 If that strange poet-princess with her grand Imaginations might at all be won. And she broke out interpreting my thoughts : 1 No doubt we seem a kind of monster to you. We are us'd to that; for women, up till this 260 Cramp'd under worse than South-sea-isle taboo, Dwarfs of the gynaeceum, fail so far In high desire, they know not, cannot guess How much their welfare is a passion to us. If we could give them surer, quicker proof — 265 O if our end were less achievable By slow approaches than by single act Of immolation, any phase of death, We were as prompt to spring against the pikes, Or down the fiery gulf as talk of it, 270 To compass our dear sisters' liberties. ' canto in] A MEDLEY 4 1 She bow'd as if to veil a noble tear. And up we came to where the river sloped To plunge in cataract, shattering on black blocks A breadth of thunder. O'er it shook the woods, 275 And danc'd the color, and, below, stuck out The bones of some vast bulk that liv'd and roar'd Before man was. She gazed awhile and said, ' As these rude bones to us, are we to her That will be.' ' Dare we dream of that,' I ask'd, 2S0 ' Which brought us, as the workman and his work, That practice betters ? ' ' How ! ' she cried, ' You love The metaphysics ! Read and earn our prize, A golden brooch : beneath an emerald plane Sits Diotima, teaching him that died 285 Of hemlock; our device; wrought to the life; She rapt upon her subject, he on her. For there are schools for all. ' ' And yet, ' I said, ' Methinks I have not found among them all One anatomic. ' ' Nay, we thought of that, ' 290 She answer'd, ' but it pleas'd us not. In truth We shudder but to dream our maids should ape Those monstrous males that carve the living hound, And cram him with the fragments of the grave, Or in the dark dissolving human heart, 295 And holy secrets of this microcosm, Dabbling a shameless hand with shameful jest, Encarnalize their spirits. Yet we know Knowledge is knowledge, and this matter hangs. Howbeit ourself, foreseeing casualty, 300 Nor willing men should come among us, learn' d, For many weary moons before we came, This craft of healing. Were you sick, ourself Would tend upon you. To your question now, 42 THE PRINCESS [canto hi Which touches on the workman and his work. 305 Let there be light and there was light: 't is so; For was, and is, and will be, are but is; And all creation is one act at once, The birth of light. But we that are not all, As parts, can see but parts, now this, now that, 310 And live, perforce, from thought to thought, and make One act a phantom of succession. Thus Our weakness somehow shapes the shadow, Time. But in the shadow will we work, and mould The woman to the fuller day. ' She spake 3 J 5 With kindled eyes. We rode a league beyond, And, o'er a bridge of pinewood crossing, came On flowery levels underneath the crag, Full of all beauty. ' O how sweet, ' I said (For I was half-oblivious of my mask), 320 ' To linger here with one that lov'd us! ' ' Yea,' She answer' d, ' or with fair philosophies That lift the fancy; for indeed these fields Are lovely, lovelier not the Elysian lawns, Where paced the Demigods of old, and saw 325 The soft white vapor streak the crowned towers Built to the Sun.' Then, turning to her maids, 1 Pitch our pavilion here upon the sward. Lay out the viands.' At the word, they rais'd A tent of satin, elaborately wrought 330 With fair Corinna's triumph. Here she stood, Engirt with many a florid maiden-cheek, The woman-conqueror; woman-conquer' d there The bearded Victor of ten-thousand hymns, And all the men mourn'd at his side. But we 335 Set forth to climb. Then, climbing, Cyril kept canto ill] A MEDLEY 43 With Psyche, with Melissa Florian, I With mine affianc'd. Many a little hand Glanc'd like a touch of sunshine on the rocks, Many a light foot shone like a jewel set 34° In the dark crag. And then we turn'd, we wound About the cliffs, the copses, out and in, Hammering and clinking, chattering stony names Of shale and hornblende, rag and trap and tuff, Amygdaloid and trachyte, till the sun 345 Grew broader toward his death and fell, and all The rosy heights came out above the lawns. The splendor falls on castle walls And snowy summits old in story ; The long light shakes across the lakes, And the wild cataract leaps in glory. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O hark, O hear ! how thin and clear, And thinner, clearer, farther going ! O sweet and fa/ from cliff and scar The horns of Elfland faintly blowing ! Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying : Blow, bugle ; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying. O love, they die in yon rich sky, They faint on hill or field or river ; Our echoes roll from soul to soul, And grow for ever and for ever. Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying, And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying. 44 THE PRINCESS [canto rv IV. ' There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun, If that hypothesis of theirs be sound, ' Said Ida. ' Let us down and rest. ' And we Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices, By every coppice-feather' d chasm and cleft, 5 Dropp'd thro' the ambrosial gloom to where below No bigger than a glow-worm shone the tent Lamp-lit from the inner. Once she lean'd on me, Descending; once or twice she lent her hand, And blissful palpitations in the blood 10 Stirring a sudden transport rose and fell. But when we planted level feet, and dipp'd Beneath the satin dome and enter' d in, There leaning deep in broider'd down we sank Our elbows. On a tripod in the midst 15 A fragrant flame rose, and before us glow'd Fruit, blossom, viand, amber wine, and gold. Then she, ' Let some one sing to us; lightlier move The minutes fledg'd with music' And a maid, Of those beside her, smote her harp and sang. 20 ' Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. 25 ' Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge ; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. 30 canto iv] A MEDLEY 45 ' Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds To dying ears, when unto dying eyes The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ; So sad, so strange, the days that are no more. 35 ' Dear as remember'd kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd On lips that are for others ; deep as love, Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ; O Death in Life, the days that are no more.' 40 She ended with such passion that the tear She sang of shook and fell, an erring pearl Lost in her bosom. But with some disdain Answer' d the Princess, ' If indeed there haunt About the moulder'd lodges of the past 45 So sweet a voice and vague, fatal to men, Well needs it we should cram our ears with wool And so pace by. But thine are fancies hatch 'd In silken-folded idleness. Nor is it Wiser to weep a true occasion lost, 50 But trim our sails, and let old bygones be, While down the streams that float us each and all To the issue, goes, like glittering bergs of ice, Throne after throne, and molten on the waste Becomes a cloud: for all things serve their time 55 Toward that great year of equal mights and rights. Nor would I fight with iron laws, in the end Found golden. Let the past be past; let be Their cancel' d Babels; tho' the rough kex break The starr' d mosaic, and the beard-blown goat 60 Hang on the shaft, and the wild fig-tree split Their monstrous idols, care not while we hear A trumpet in the distance pealing news 46 THE PRINCESS [canto iV Of better, and Hope, a poising eagle, burns Above the unrisen morrow. ' Then to me : 65 ' Know you no song of your own land, ' she said, I Not such as moans about the retrospect, But deals with the other distance and the hues Of promise; not a death's-head at the wine ? ' Then I remember' d one myself had made, 70 What time I watch'd the swallow winging south From mine own land, part made long since, and part Now while I sang, and maidenlike as far As I could ape their treble did I sing. ' O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South, 75 Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee. ' O tell her. Swallow, thou that knowest each, That bright and fierce and fickle is the South, And dark and true and tender is the North. 80 ' O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill, And cheep and twitter twenty million loves. 4 O were I thou that she might take me in, And lay me on her bosom, and her heart 85 Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. « Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love, Delaying as the tender ash delays To clothe herself, when all the woods are green ? ' O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown ; 90 Say to her, I do but wanton in the South, But in the North long since my nest is made. ' O tell her, brief is life but love is long, And brief the sun of summer in the North, And brief the moon of beauty in the South. 95 canto iv] A MEDLEY 47 ' Swallow, flying from the golden woods, Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine, And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.' I ceas'd, and all the ladies, each at each, Like the Ithacensian suitors in old time, ioo Stared with great eyes, and laugh 'd with alien lips, And knew not what they meant; for still my voice Rang false. But smiling, ' Not for thee, ' she said, ' O Bulbul, any rose of Gulistan Shall burst her veil. Marsh-divers, rather, maid, 105 Shall croak thee sister, or the meadow-crake Grate her harsh kindred in the grass. And this A mere love-poem ! O for such, my friend, We hold them slight. They mind us of the time When we made bricks in Egypt. Knaves are men, no That lute and flute fantastic tenderness, And dress the victim to the offering up, And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise, And play the slave to gain the tyranny. Poor soul! I had a maid of honor once. 115 She wept her true eyes blind for such a one, A rogue of canzonets and serenades. I lov'd her. Peace be with her. She is dead. So they blaspheme the muse ! But great is song Us'd to great ends. Ourself have often tried 120 Valkyrian hymns, or into rhythm have dash'd The passion of the prophetess ; for song Is duer unto freedom, force and growth Of spirit, than to junketing and love. Love is it ? Would this same mock-love, and this 125 Mock-Hymen were laid up like winter bats, Till all men grew to rate us at our worth, Not vassals to be beat, nor pretty babes 48 THE PRINCESS [canto iv To be dandled, no, but living wills, and sphered Whole in ourselves and owed to none. Enough ! 130 But now to leaven play with profit, you, Know you no song, the true growth of your soil, That gives the manners of your countrywomen ? ' She spoke and turn'd her sumptuous head with eyes Of shining expectation fix'd on mine. 135 Then while I dragg'd my brains for such a song, Cyril, with whom the bell-mouth' d glass had wrought, Or master' d by the sense of sport, began To troll a careless, careless tavern-catch Of Moll and Meg, and strange experiences 140 Unmeet for ladies. Florian nodded at him, I frowning. Psyche flush 'd and wann'd and shook. The lilylike Melissa droop' d her brows. ' Forbear, ' the Princess cried. ' Forbear, Sir, ' I ; And heated thro' and thro' with wrath and love ; 145 I smote him on the breast. He started up. There rose a shriek as of a city sack'd. Melissa clamor'd ' Flee the death.' ' To horse! ' Said Ida; ' home! to horse! ' and fled, as flies A troop of snowy doves athwart the dusk, 150 When some one batters at the dovecote doors, Disorderly the women. Alone I stood With Florian, cursing Cyril, vex'd at heart, In the pavilion. There like parting hopes I heard them passing from me: hoof by hoof, 155 And every hoof a knell to my desires, Clang' d on the bridge; and then another shriek, ' The Head, the Head, the Princess, O the Head ! ' For blind with rage she miss'd the plank, and roll'd In the river. Out I sprang from glow to gloom. 160 canto iv] A MEDLEY 49 There whirl'd her white robe like a blossom'd branch Rapt to the horrible fall. A glance I gave, No more; but woman-vested as I was Plunged; and the flood drew; yet I caught her. Then Oaring one arm, and bearing in my left 165 The weight of all the hopes of half the world, Strove to buffet to land in vain. A tree Was half-disrooted from his place and stoop 'd To drench his dark locks in the gurgling wave Mid-channel. Right on this we drove and caught, -7° And grasping down the boughs I gain'd the shore. There stood her maidens glimmeringly group'd In the hollow bank. One reaching forward drew My burthen from mine arms. They cried, ' She lives. ' They bore her back into the tent. But I, 175 So much a kind of shame within me wrought, Not yet endur'd to meet her opening eyes, Nor found my friends; but push'd alone on foot (For since her horse was lost I left her mine) Across the woods, and less from Indian craft 1S0 Than beelike instinct hiveward, found at length The garden portals. Two great statues, Art And Science, Caryatids, lifted up A weight of emblem, and betwixt were valves Of open-work in which the hunter ru'd 185 His rash intrusion, manlike, but his brows Had sprouted, and the branches thereupon Spread out at top, and grimly spiked the gates. A little space was left between the horns, Thro' which I clamber'd o'er at top with pain, 19° Dropp'd on the sward, and up the linden walks, 50 THE PRINCESS [canto iv And toss'd on thoughts that chang'd from hue to hue, Now poring on the glowworm, now the star, I paced the terrace, till the Bear had wheel' d Thro' a great arc his seven slow suns. A step 195 Of lightest echo, then a loftier form Than female, moving thro' the uncertain gloom, Disturb'd me with the doubt ' if this were she/ But it was Florian. ' Hist, O hist! ' he said, 1 They seek us. Out so late is out of rules. 200 Moreover, " Seize the strangers " is the cry. How came you here ? ' I told him. ' I,' said he, 1 Last of the train, a moral leper, I, To whom none spake, half-sick at heart, return' d. Arriving all confus'd among the rest 205 With hooded brows I crept into the hall, And, couch'd behind a Judith, underneath The head of Holofernes peep'd and saw. Girl after girl was call'd to trial. Each Disclaim'd all knowledge of us; last of all, 210 Melissa. Trust me, Sir, I piti'd her. She, question 'd if she knew us men, at first Was silent; closer press'd denied it not: And then, demanded if her mother knew, Or Psyche, she affirm'd not, or denied; 215 From whence the Royal mind, familiar with her, Easily gather' d either guilt. She sent For Psyche, but she was not there. She call'd For Psyche's child to cast it from the doors. She sent for Blanche to accuse her face to face; 220 And I slipp'd out. But whither will you now ? And where are Psyche, Cyril ? Both are fled : What, if together ? That were not so well. canto iv] A MEDLEY 5 1 Would rather we had never come! I dread His wildness, and the chances of the dark. ' 225 1 And yet, ' I said, ' you wrong him more than I That struck him. This is proper to the clown, Tho' smock'd, or furr'd and purpled, still the clown, To harm the thing that trusts him, and to shame That which he says he loves; for Cyril, howe'er 230 He deal in frolic, as to-night — the song Might have been worse and sinn'd in grosser lips Beyond all pardon — as it is, I hold These flashes on the surface are not he. He has a solid base of temperament; 235 But as the water-lily starts and slides Upon the level in little puffs of wind, Tho' anchor'd to the bottom, such is he.' Scarce had I ceas'd when from a tamarisk near Two Proctors leap'd upon us, crying, ' Names/ 240 He, standing still, was clutch'd; but I began To thrid the musky-circled mazes, wind And double in and out the boles, and race By all the fountains. Fleet I was of foot. Before me shower' d the rose in flakes; behind 245 I heard the puff'd pursuer; at mine ear Bubbled the nightingale and heeded not, And secret laughter tickled all my soul. At last I hook'd my ankle in a vine, That clasp' d the feet of a Mnemosyne, 250 And falling on my face was caught and known. They haled us to the Princess where she sat High in the hall. Above her droop'd a lamp, 52 THE PRINCESS [canto iv And made the single jewel on her brow Burn like the mystic fire on a mast-head, 255 Prophet of storm. A handmaid on each side Bow'd toward her, combing out her long black hair Damp from the river; and close behind her stood Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men, Huge women blowz'd with health, and wind, and rain, And labor. Each was like a Druid rock; 261 Or like a spire of land that stands apart Cleft from the main, and wail'd about with mews. Then, as we came, the crowd dividing clove An advent to the throne; and therebeside, 265 Half-naked as if caught at once from bed And tumbled on the purple footcloth, lay The lily-shining child ; and on the left, Bow'd on her palms and folded up from wrong, Her round white shoulder shaken with her sobs, 270 Melissa knelt. But Lady Blanche erect Stood up and spake, an affluent orator. ' It was not thus, O Princess, in old days. You prized my counsel, liv'd upon my lips. I led you then to all the Castalies; 275 I fed you with the milk of every Muse; I lov'd you like this kneeler, and you me Your second mother. Those were gracious times. Then came your new friend : you began to change — I saw it and griev'd — to slacken and to cool; 280 Till taken with her seeming openness You turn'd your warmer currents all to her, To me you froze. This was my meed for all. Yet I bore up in part from ancient love, canto iv] A MEDLEY 53 And partly that I hoped to win you back, 285 And partly conscious of my own deserts, And partly that you were my civil head, And chiefly you were born for something great, In which I might your fellow-worker be, When time should serve; and thus a noble scheme 290 Grew up from seed we two long since had sown ; In us true growth, in her a Jonah's gourd, Up in one night and due to sudden sun. We took this palace; but even from the first You stood in your own light and darken'd mine. 295 W T hat student came but that you planed her path To Lady Psyche, younger, not so wise, A foreigner, and I your countrywoman, I your old friend and tried, she new in all ? But still her lists were swell' d and mine were lean. 300 Yet I bore up in hope she would be known. Then came these wolves: they knew her; they endured, Long-closeted with her the yestermorn, To tell her what they were, and she to hear. And me none told. Not less to an eye like mine, 305 A lidless watcher of the public weal, Last night, their mask was patent, and my foot Was to you. But I thought again. I fear'd To meet a cold " We thank you, w T e shall hear of it From Lady Psyche: " you had gone to her, 3 10 She told, perforce; and winning easy grace, No doubt, for slight delay, remain 'd among us In our young nursery still unknown, the stem Less grain than touchwood, while my honest heat Were all miscounted as malignant haste 3 J 5 To push my rival out of place and power. But public use required she should be known; 54 THE PRINCESS [canto iv And since my oath was ta'en for public use, I broke the letter of it to keep the sense. I spoke not then at first, but watch 'd them well, 32c Saw that they kept apart, no mischief done; And yet this day (tho 7 you should hate me for it) I came to tell you; found that you had gone, Ridden to the hills, she likewise. Now, I thought, That surely she will speak; if not, then I. 3 2 5 Did she ? These monsters blazon 'd what they were, According to the coarseness of their kind, For thus I hear; and known at last (my work) And full of cowardice and guilty shame — I grant in her some sense of shame — she flies; 330 And I remain on whom to wreak your rage, I, that have lent my life to build up yours, I, that have wasted here health, wealth, and time, And talent, I — you know it — I will not boast. Dismiss me, and I prophesy your plan, 335 Divorc'd from my experience, will be chaff For every gust of chance, and men will say We did not know the real light, but chased The wisp that flickers where no foot can tread. ' She ceas'd. The Princess answer'd coldly: ' Good: Your oath is broken. We dismiss you; go. 341 For this lost lamb ' (she pointed to the child) ' Our mind is changed; we take it to ourself. ' Thereat the Lady stretch 'd a vulture throat, And shot from crooked lips a haggard smile. 345 ' The plan was mine. I built the nest,' she said, ' To hatch the cuckoo. Rise! ' and stoop'd to updrag Melissa. She, half on her mother propp'd canto iv] A MEDLEY 55 Half-drooping from her, turn'd her face, and cast A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer, 35° Which melted Fiorian's fancy as she hung, A Niobean daughter, one arm out, Appealing to the bolts of Heaven. And while We gazed upon her came a little stir About the doors, and on a sudden rush'd 355 Among us, out of breath, as one pursu'd, A woman-post in flying raiment. Fear Stared in her eyes, and chalk 'd her face, and wing'd Her transit to the throne, whereby she fell Delivering sealed dispatches which the Head 360 Took half-amazed, and in her lion's mood Tore open, silent we with blind surmise Regarding, while she read, till over brow And cheek and bosom brake the wrathful bloom As of some fire against a stormy cloud, 365 When the wild peasant rights himself, the rick Flames, and his anger reddens in the heavens; For anger most it seem'd, while now her breast, Beaten with some great passion at her heart, Palpitated, her hand shook, and we heard 370 In the dead hush the papers that she held Rustle. At once the lost lamb at her feet Sent out a bitter bleating for its dam. The plaintive cry jarr'd on her ire. She crush'd The scrolls together, made a sudden turn 375 As if to speak, but, utterance failing her, She whirl' d them on to me, as who should say 1 Read,' and I read — two letters — one her sire's: 1 Fair daughter, when we sent the Prince your way We knew not your ungracious laws, which learn'd, 3 80 56 THE PRINCESS [canto IV We, conscious of what temper you are built, Came all in haste to hinder wrong, but fell Into his father's hand, who has this night, You lying close upon his territory, Slipp'd round and in the dark invested you, 3 8 5 And here he keeps me hostage for his son. ' The second was my father's running thus: 1 You have our son. Touch not a hair of his head. Render him up unscathed. Give him your hand: Cleave to your contract: tho' indeed we hear 39° You hold the woman is the better man ; A rampant heresy, such as if it spread Would make all women kick against their lords Thro' all the world, and which might well deserve That we this night should pluck your palace down; 395 And we will do it, unless you send us back Our son, on the instant, whole. ' So far I read; And then stood up and spoke impetuously. ' O not to pry and peer on your reserve, But led by golden wishes, and a hope 4°° The child of regal compact, did I break Your precinct ; not a scorner of your sex But venerator, zealous it should be All that it might be. Hear me, for I bear, Tho' man, yet human, whatso'er your wrongs, 405 From the flaxen curl to the gray lock a life Less mine than yours. My nurse would tell me of you ; I babbled for you, as babies for the moon, Vague brightness. When a boy, you stoop 'd to me From all high places, liv'd in all fair lights, 4 1 © canto iv] A MEDLEY 57 Came in long breezes rapt from inmost south And blown to inmost north. At eve and dawn With Ida, Ida, Ida, rang the woods; The leader wild-swan in among the stars Would clang it, and lapp'd in wreaths of glowworm light The mellow breaker murmur' d Ida. Now, 416 Because I would have reach 'd you, had you been Sphered up with Cassiopeia, or the enthroned Persephone in Hades, now at length, Those winters of abeyance all worn out, 420 A man I came to see you. But, indeed, Not in this frequence can I lend full tongue, noble Ida, to those thoughts that wait On you, their centre. Let me say but this, That many a famous man and woman, town 425 And landskip, have I heard of, after seen The dwarfs of presage : tho' when known, there grew Another kind of beauty in detail Made them worth knowing. But in you I found My boyish dream involv'd and dazzled down 430 And master' d, while that after-beauty makes Such head from act to act, from hour to hour, W T ithin me, that except you slay me here, According to your bitter statute-book, 1 cannot cease to follow you, as they say 435 The seal does music; who desire you more Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips, With many thousand matters left to do, The breath of life; O more than poor men wealth, Than sick men health — yours, yours, not mine — but half Without you; with you, whole; and of those halves 441 You worthiest. And howe'er you block and bar Your heart with system out from mine, I hold 58 THE PRINCESS [canto iv That it becomes no man to nurse despair, But in the teeth of clench 'd antagonisms 445 To follow up the worthiest till he die. Yet that I came not all unauthorized Behold your father's letter.' On one knee Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dash'd Unopen'd at her feet. A tide of fierce 450 Invective seem'd to wait behind her lips, As waits a river level with the dam Ready to burst and flood the world with foam. And so she would have spoken, but there rose A hubbub in the court of half the maids 455 Gather' d together. From the illumin'd hall Long lanes of splendor slanted o'er a press Of snowy shoulders, thick as herded ewes, And rainbow robes, and gems and gemlike eyes, And gold and golden heads. They to and fro 460 Fluctuated, as flowers in storm, some red, some pale, All open-mouth'd, all gazing to the light, Some crying there was an army in the land, And some that men were in the very walls, And some they cared not; till a clamor grew 465 As of a new-world Babel, woman-built, And worse-confounded. High above them stood The placid marble Muses, looking peace. Not peace she look'd, the Head; but rising up Robed in the long night of her deep hair, so 470 To the open window moved, remaining there Fix'd like a beacon-tower above the waves Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling eye Glares ruin, and the wild birds on the light canto iv] A MEDLEY 59 Dash themselves dead. She stretch' d her arms and call'd Across the tumult, and the tumult fell. 476 ' What fear ye, brawlers ? am not I your Head ? On me, me, me, the storm first breaks. / dare All these male thunderbolts. What is it ye fear ? Peace! There are those to avenge us and they come. 480 If not, — myself were like enough, O girls, To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights, And clad in iron burst the ranks of war, Or, falling, protomartyr of our cause, Die. Yet I blame you not so much for fear. 485 Six thousand years of fear have made you that From which I would redeem you. But for those That stir this hubbub — you and you — I know Your faces there in the crowd — to-morrow morn We hold a great convention. Then shall they 49° That love their voices more than duty, learn With whom they deal, dismiss' d in shame to live No wiser than their mothers, household stuff, Live chattels, mincers of each other's fame, Full of weak poison, turnspits for the clown, 495 The drunkard's football, laughing-stocks of Time, Whose brains are in their hands and in their heels, But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum, To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour, For ever slaves at home and fools abroad. ' 500 She, ending, waved her hands; thereat the crowd Muttering, dissolv'd. Then with a smile, that look'd A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff, When all the glens are drown' d in azure gloom Of thunder-shower, she floated to us and said : 505 6o THE PfiWCESS [canto iv ' You have done well and like a gentleman, And like a prince. You have our thanks for all : And you look well too in your woman's dress. Well have you done and like a gentleman. You saved our life; we owe you bitter thanks. 510 Better have died and spill' d our bones in the flood — Then men had said — but now — What hinders me To take such bloody vengeance on you both ? — Yet since our father — Wasps in our good hive, You would-be quenchers of the light to be, 515 Barbarians, grosser than your native bears — would I had his sceptre for one hour! You that have dared to break our bound, and gull'd Our servants, wrong' d and lied and thwarted us — /wed with thee! /bound by precontract 520 Your bride, your bondslave! Not tho' all the gold That veins the world were pack'd to make your crown, And every spoken tongue should lord you. Sir, Your falsehood and yourself are hateful to us. 1 trample on your offers and on you. 525 Begone. We will not look upon you more. Here, push them out at gates. ' In wrath she spake. Then those eight mighty daughters of the plough Bent their broad faces toward us and address' d Their motion. Twice I sought to plead my cause, 530 But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands, The weight of destiny. So from her face They push'd us, down the steps, and thro' the court, And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates. We cross'd the street and gain'd a petty mound 535 Beyond it, whence we saw the lights and heard interlude] A MEDLEY 6 1 The voices murmuring. While I listened, came On a sudden the weird seizure and the doubt. I seem'd to move among a world of ghosts. The Princess with her monstrous woman-guard, 540 The jest and earnest working side by side, The cataract and the tumult and the kings Were shadows; and the long fantastic night With all its doings had and had not been, And all things were and were not. This went by 545 As strangely as it came, and on my spirits Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy; Not long. I shook it off; for spite of doubts And sudden ghostly shadowings I was one To whom the touch of all mischance but came 55° As night to him that sitting on a hill Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun Set into sunrise. Then we moved away. INTERLUDE. Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums, That beat to battle where he stands ; Thy face across his fancy comes, And gives the battle to his hands : A moment, while the trumpets blow, He sees his brood about thy knee ; The next, like fire he meets the foe, And strikes him dead for thine and thee, So Lilia sang: we thought her half-possess'd, She struck such warbling fury thro' the words. 10 And, after, feigning pique at what she call'd The raillery, or grotesque, or false sublime — Like one that wishes at a dance to change 62 THE PRINCESS [canto V The music — clapp'd her hands and cried for war, Or some grand fight to kill and make an end. 15 And he that next inherited the tale, Half turning to the broken statue, said, ' Sir Ralph has got your colors; if I prove Your knight, and fight your battle, what for me ? ' It chanc'd, her empty glove upon the tomb 20 Lay by her like a model of her hand. She took it and she flung it. ' Fight, ' she said, ' And make us all we would be, great and good. ' He knightlike in his cap instead of casque,. A cap of Tyrol borrow 'd from the hall, 25 Arrang'd the favor, and assum'd the Prince. V. Now, scarce three paces measur'd from the mound, We stumbled on a stationary voice, And ' Stand ! Who goes ? ' ' Two from the palace, ' I. ' The second two : they wait, ' he said, ' pass on ; His Highness wakes.' And one, that clash'd in arms, 5 By glimmering lanes and walls of canvas led Threading the soldier-city, till we heard The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake From blazon'd lions o'er the imperial tent Whispers of war. Entering, the sudderi light 10 Dazed me half-blind. I stood and seem'd to hear, As in a poplar grove when a light wind wakes A lisping of the innumerous leaf and dies, Each hissing in his neighbor's ear; and then A strangled titter, out of which there brake 15 On all sides, clamoring etiquette to death, canto v] A MEDLEY 6$ Unmeasur'd mirth; while now the two old kings Began to wag their baldness up and down, The fresh young captains flash 'd their glittering teeth, The huge bush-bearded barons heav'd and blew, 20 And slain with laughter roll'd the gilded squire. At length my sire, his rough cheek wet with tears, Panted from weary sides, ' King, you are free! We did but keep you surety for our son, If this be he, — or a draggled mawkin, thou, 25 That tends her bristled grunters in the sludge; ' — For I was drench 'd with ooze, and torn with briers, More crumpled than a poppy from the sheath, And all one rag, disprinc'd from head to heel. Then some one sent beneath his vaulted palm 30 A whisper' d jest to some one near him, ' Look, He has been among his shadows.' 'Satan take The old women and their shadows ! ' — thus the King Roar'd — ' make yourself a man to fight with men. Go: Cyril told us all. ' As boys that slink 35 From ferule and the trespass-chiding eye, Away we stole, and transient in a trice From what was left of faded woman-slough To sheathing splendors and the golden scale Of harness, issu'd in the sun, that now 40 Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the Earth, And hit the Northern hills. Here Cyril met us, A little shy at first, but by and by We twain, with mutual pardon ask'd and given For stroke and song, resolder'd peace, whereon 45 Follow'd his tale. Amazed he fled away Thro' the dark land, and later in the night 64 THE PRINCESS [canto v Had come on Psyche weeping. Then we fell Into your father's hand, and there she lies, But will not speak nor stir. ' He show'd a tent 50 A stone-shot off. We enter' d in, and there Among piled arms and rough accoutrements, Pitiful sight, wrapp'd in a soldier's cloak, Like some sweet sculpture draped from head to foot, And push'd by rude hands from its pedestal, 55 All her fair length upon the ground she lay; And at her head a follower of the camp, A charr'd and wrinkled piece of womanhood, Sat watching like a watcher by the dead. Then Florian knelt, and ' Come,' he whisper' d to her, ' Lift up your head, sweet sister: lie not thus. . 61 What have you done but right ? You could not slay Me, nor your prince. Look up : be comforted. Sweet is it to have done the thing one ought, W r hen fallen in darker ways. ' And likewise I: 65 1 Be comforted : have I not lost her too, In whose least act abides the nameless charm That none has else for me ? ' She heard, she moved, She moan'd, a folded voice; and up she sat, And rais'd the cloak from brows as pale and smooth 70 As those that mourn half-shrouded over death In deathless marble. ' Her, ' she said, ' my friend — Parted from her — betray' d her cause and mine — Where shall I breathe ? Why kept ye not your faith ? O base and bad! What comfort ? None for me!' 75 To whom remorseful Cyril, ' Yet I pray Take comfort. Live, dear lady, for your child ! ' At which she lifted up her voice and cried. canto v] A MEDLEY 65 ' Ah me, my babe, my blossom, ah, my child, My one sweet child, whom I shall see no more! 80 For now will cruel Ida keep her back ; And either she will die from want of care, Or sicken with ill-usage, when they say The child is hers — for every little fault, The child is hers. And they will beat my girl 85 Remembering her mother. O my flower! Or they will take her, they will make her hard, And she will pass me by in after-life With some cold reverence worse than were she dead. Ill mother that I was to leave her there, 9° To lag behind, scared by the cry they made, The horror of the shame among them all. But I will go and sit beside the doors, And make a wild petition night and day, Until they hate to hear me like a wind 95 Wailing for ever, till they open to me, And lay my little blossom at my feet, My babe, my sweet Aglaia, my one child. And I will take her up and go my way, And satisfy my soul with kissing her. 100 Ah ! what might that man not deserve of me Who gave me back my child ? ' 'Be comforted, ' Said Cyril, ' you shall have it.' But again She veil'd her brows, and prone she sank, and so, Like tender things that being caught feign death, 105 Spoke not, nor stirr'd. By this a murmur ran Thro' all the camp, and inward raced the scouts With rumor of Prince Arac hard at hand. We left her by the woman, and without Found the gray kings at parle. And ' Look you, ' cried 66 THE PRINCESS [canto v My father, ' that our compact be fulfill'' d. iii You have spoilt this child; she laughs at you and man. She wrongs herself, her sex, and me, and him. But red-faced war has rods of steel and fire. She yields, or war. ' Then Gama turn'd to me. 115 ' We fear, indeed, you spent a stormy time With our strange girl. And yet they say that still You love her. Give us, then, your mind at large. How say you, war or not ? ' ' Not war, if possible, king,' I said, ' lest from the abuse of war, 120 'The desecrated shrine, the trampled year, The smouldering homestead, and the household flower Torn from the lintel — all the common wrong — A smoke go up thro' which I loom to her Three times a monster. Now she lightens scorn 125 At him that mars her plan, but then would hate (And every voice she talk'd with ratify it, And every face she look'd on justify it) The general foe. More soluble is this knot By gentleness than war. I want her love. 130 What were I nigher this altho' we dash'd Your cities into shards with catapults ? She would not love; — or brought her chain' d, a slave, The lifting of whose eyelash is my lord ? Not ever would she love, but brooding turn 135 The book of scorn, till all my flitting chance Were caught within the record of her wrongs And crush' d to death. And rather, Sire, than this 1 would the old God of war himself were dead, Forgotten, rusting an his iron hills, 140 Rotting on some wild shore with ribs of wreck, canto v] A MEDLEY 6? Or like an old-world mammoth bulk'd in ice, Not to be molten out. ' And roughly spake My father, ' Tut, you know them not, the girls. Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think !45 That idiot legend credible. Look you, Sir ! Man is the hunter ; woman is his game. The sleek and shining creatures of the chase, We hunt them for the beauty of their skins. They love us for it, and we ride them down. I5 o Wheedling and siding with them ! Out ! for shame ! Boy, there 's no rose that 's half so dear to them As he that does the thing they dare not do, Breathing and sounding beauteous battle, comes With the air of the trumpet round him, and leaps in 155 Among the women, snares them by the score Flatter' d and fluster' d, wins, tho' dash'd with death He reddens what he kisses. Thus I won Your mother, a good mother, a good wife, Worth winning. But this firebrand — gentleness 160 To such as her ! If Cyril spake her true, To catch a dragon in a cherry net, To trip a tigress with a gossamer, Were wisdom to it.' ' Yea, but, Sire, ' I cried, ' Wild natures need wise curbs. The soldier ? No. 165 What dares not Ida do that she should prize The soldier? I beheld her, when she rose The yesternight, and storming in extremes Stood for her cause, and flung defiance down Gagelike to man, and had not shunn'd the death, I7 o No, not the soldier's. Yet I hold her, king, True woman ; but you clash them all in one, 68 THE PRINCESS [canto v That have as many differences as we. The violet varies from the lily as far As oak from elm. One loves the soldier, one 175 The silken priest of peace, one this, one that, And some unworthily ; their sinless faith, A maiden moon that sparkles on a sty, Glorifying clown and satyr ; whence they need More breadth of culture. Is not Ida right? ^Zo They worth it? Truer to the law within ? Severer in the logic of a life ? Twice as magnetic to sweet influences Of earth and heaven ? And she of whom you speak, My mother, looks as whole as some serene 185 Creation minted in the golden moods Of sovereign artists ; not a thought, a touch, But pure as lines of green that streak the white . Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves ; I say, Not like the piebald miscellany, man, I9 o Bursts of great heart and slips in sensual mire, But whole and one. And take them all-in-all, Were we ourselves but half as good, as kind, As truthful, much that Ida claims as right Had ne'er been mooted, but as frankly theirs i 95 As dues of Nature. To our point : not war ; Lest I lose all.* ' Nay, nay, you spake but sense,' Said Gama. ' We remember love ourself In our sweet youth. We did not rate him then This red-hot iron to be shaped with blows. 2 oo You talk almost like Ida. She can talk ; And there is something in it as you say. But you talk kindlier. We esteem you for it, — He seems a gracious and a gallant Prince, canto v] A MEDLEY 69 I would he had our daughter. For the rest, 205 Our own detention, why, the causes weigh' d, Fatherly fears — you us'd us courteously — We would do much to gratify your Prince — We pardon it ; and for your ingress here Upon the skirt and fringe of our fair land, 210 You did but come as goblins in the night, Nor in the furrow broke the ploughman's head, Nor burnt the grange, nor buss'd the milking-maid, Nor robb'd the farmer of his bowl of cream. But let your Prince (our royal word upon it, 215 He comes back safe) ride with us to our lines, And speak with Arac. Arac's word is thrice As ours with Ida : something may be done — I know not what — and ours shall see us friends. You, likewise, our late guests, if so you will, 220 Follow us : who knows ? We four may build some plan Foursquare to opposition.' Here he reach' d White hands of farewell to my sire, who growl' d An answer which, half-muffled in his beard, Let so much out as gave us leave to go. 225 Then rode we with the old king across the lawns Beneath huge trees, a thousand rings of Spring In every bole, a song on every spray Of birds that piped their Valentines, and woke Desire in me to infuse my tale of love 230 In the old king's ears, who promis'd help, and ooz'd All o'er with honey' d answer as we rode ; And blossom-fragrant slipp'd the heavy dews Gather' d by night and peace, with each light air On our mail' d heads. But other thoughts than peace 235 7° THE PRINCESS [canto v Burn'd in us, when we saw the embattled squares And squadrons of the Prince, trampling the flowers With clamor : for among them rose a cry As if to greet the king. They made a halt ; The horses yell'd ; they clash' d their arms ; the drum 240 Beat ; merrily-blowing shrill' d the martial fife; And in the blast and bray of the long horn And serpent-throated bugle, undulated The banner. Anon to meet us lightly pranc'd Three captains out ; nor ever had I seen 245 Such thews of men. The midmost and the highest Was Arac. All about his motion clung The shadow of his sister, as the beam Of the East, that play'd upon them, made them glance Like those three stars of the airy Giant's zone, 250 That glitter burnish' d by the frosty dark ; And as the fiery Sirius alters hue, And bickers into red and emerald, shone Their morions, wash'd with morning, as they came. And I that prated peace, when first I heard 255 War-music, felt the blind wild-beast of force, Whose home is in the sinews of a man, Stir in me as to strike. Then took the king His three broad sons ; with now a wandering hand And now a pointed finger, told them all. 260 A common light of smiles at our disguise Broke from their lips, and, ere the windy jest Had labor' d down within his ample lungs, The genial giant, Arac, roll'd himself Thrice in the saddle, then burst out in words : 265 * Our land invaded, 'sdeath ! and he himself Your captive, yet my father wills not war. canto v] A MEDLEY *] I And, 'sdeath ! myself, what care I, war or no ? But then this question of your troth remains. And there 's a downright honest meaning in her. 270 She flies too high, she flies too high ! And yet She ask'd but space and fair-play for her scheme. She press' d and press' d it on me — I myself, What know I of these things? But, life and soul ! I thought her half-right talking of her wrongs. 275 I say she flies too high, 'sdeath! what of that? I take her for the flower of womankind, And so I often told her, right or wrong. And, Prince, she can be sweet to those she loves, And, right or wrong, I care not. This is all : 280 I stand upon her side. She made me swear it — 'Sdeath ! — and with solemn rites by candle-light — Swear by Saint something — I forget her name — Her that talk'd down the fifty wisest men ; She was a princess too. And so I swore. 285 Come, this is all; she will not. Waive your claim. If not, the foughten field, what else, at once Decides it, 'sdeath ! against my father's will.' I lagg'd in answer, loth to render up My precontract, and loth by brainless war 290 To cleave the rift of difference deeper yet ; Till one of those two brothers, half aside And fingering at the hair about his lip, To prick us on to combat, ' Like to like ! The woman's garment hid the woman's heart.' 295 A taunt that clench' d his purpose like a blow ! For fiery-short was Cyril's counter-scoff, And sharp I answer' d, touch' d upon the point J 2 THE PRINCESS [canto v Where idle boys are cowards to their shame, — ' Decide it here : why not ? We are three to three. ' 30° Then spake the third, ' But three to three ? no more ? No more, and in our noble sister's cause ? More, more, for honor ! Every captain waits Hungry for honor, angry for his king. More, more, some fifty on a side, that each 305 May breathe himself, and quick, by overthrow Of these or those, the question settled die.' 'Yea,' answer' d I, ' for this wild wreath of air, This flake of rainbow flying on the highest Foam of men's deeds — this honor, if ye will. 310 It needs must be for honor if at all. Since, what decision ? If we fail, we fail, And if we win, we fail. She would not keep Her compact.' ' 'Sdeath ! but we will send to her,' Said Arac, ' worthy reasons why she should 3 T 5 Bide by this issue. Let our missive thro', And you shall have her answer by the word.' ' Boys ! ' shriek' d the old king, but vainlier than a hen To her false daughters in the pool ; for none Regarded. Neither seem'd there more to say. 320 Back rode we to my father's camp, and found He thrice had sent a herald to the gates, To learn if Ida yet would cede our claim, Or by denial flush her babbling wells With her own people's life. Three times he went. 325 The first, he blew and blew, but none appear' d. He batter' d at the doors; none came. The next, An awful voice within had warn'd him thence. canto v] A MEDLEY 73 The third, and those eight daughters of the plough Came sallying thro' the gates, and caught his hair, 330 And so belabor' d him on rib and cheek They made him wild. Not less one glance he caught Thro' open doors of Ida station' d there Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm Tho' compass' d by two armies and the noise 335 Of arms ; and standing like a stately pine Set in a cataract on an island-crag, When storm is on the heights, and right and left Suck'd from the dark heart of the long hills roll The torrents, dash'd to the vale. And yet her will 340 Bred will in me to overcome it or fall. But when I told the king that I was pledg'd To fight in tourney for my bride, he clash' d His iron palms together with a cry: Himself would tilt it out among the lads. 345 But overborne by all his bearded lords With reasons drawn from age and state, perforce He yielded, wroth and red, with fierce demur ; And many a bold knight started up in heat, And sware to combat for my claim till death. 35Q All on this side the palace ran the field Flat on the garden-wall ; and likewise here, Above the garden's glowing blossom-belts, A column' d entry shone and marble stairs, And great bronze valves, emboss' d with Tomyris 355 And what she did to Cyrus after fight, But now fast barr'd. So here upon the flat All that long morn the lists were hammer' d up, And all that morn the heralds to and fro, 74 THE PRINCESS [canto v With message and defiance, went and came ; 360 Last, Ida's answer, in a royal hand, But shaken here and there, and rolling words Oration-like. I kiss'd it and I read : ' O brother, you have known the pangs we felt, What heats of indignation when we heard 365 Of those that iron-cramp'd their women's feet ; Of lands in which at the altar the poor bride Gives her harsh groom for bridal-gift a scourge ; Of living hearts that crack within the fire Where smoulder their dead despots; and of those, — 370 Mothers, — that, all prophetic pity, fling Their pretty maids in the running flood, and swoops The vulture, beak and talon, at the heart Made for all noble motion. And I saw That equal baseness liv'd in sleeker times 375 With smoother men : the old leaven leaven' d all. Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights, No woman named. Therefore I set my face Against all men, and liv'd but for mine own. Far off from men I built a fold for them. 3 8 ° I stored it full of rich memorial ; I fenc'd it round with gallant institutes, And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey, And prosper' d; till a rout of saucy boys Brake on us at our books, and marr'd our peace, 385 Mask'd like our maids, blustering I know not what Of insolence and love, some pretext held Of baby troth, invalid, since my will Seal'd not the bond — the striplings ! — for their sport ! — I tamed my leopards : shall I not tame these ? 39° Or you? or I? for since you think me touch' d canto v] A MEDLEY 75 In honor — what ! I would not aught of false — Is not our cause pure ? And whereas I know Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's blood You draw from, fight. You failing, I abide 395 What end soever. Fail you will not. Still, Take not his life ; he risk'd it for my own. His mother lives. Yet whatsoe'er you do, Fight and fight well ; strike and strike home. O dear Brothers, the woman's Angel guards you, you 400 The sole men to be mingled with our cause, The sole men we shall prize in the after-time, Your very armor hallow' d, and your statues Rear'd, sung to, when, this gadfly brush' d aside, We plant a solid foot into the Time, 405 And mould a generation strong to move With claim on claim from right to right, till she Whose name is yoked with children's, know herself; And Knowledge in our own land make her free, And, ever following those two crowned twins, 410 Commerce and Conquest, shower the fiery grain Of freedom broadcast over all that orbs Between the Northern and the Southern morn.' Then came a postscript dash'd across the rest. 1 See that there be no traitors in your camp. 4*5 We seem a nest of traitors — none to trust Since our arms fail'd — this Egypt-plague of men! Almost our maids were better at their homes, Than thus man-girdled here. Indeed I think Our chiefest comfort is the little child 420 Of one unworthy mother ; which she left. She shall not have it back ; the child shall grow To prize the authentic mother of her mind. 7& THE PRINCESS [canto v I took it for an hour in mine own bed This morning. There the tender orphan hands 425 Felt at my heart, and seem'd to charm from thence The wrath I nurs'd against the world. Farewell.' I ceas'd; he said, ' Stubborn, but she may sit Upon a king's right hand in thunder-storms, And breed up warriors ! See now, tho' yourself 430 Be dazzled by the wildfire Love to sloughs That swallow common sense, the spindling king, This Gama swamp' d in lazy tolerance. When the man wants weight, the woman takes it up, And topples down the scales. But this is fix'd 345 As are the roots of earth and base of all : Man for the field and woman for the hearth ; Man for the sword and for the needle she ; Man with the head and woman with the heart ; Man to command and woman to obey ; 440 All else confusion. Look you ! The gray mare Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills From tile to scullery, and her small goodman Shrinks in his arm-chair while the fires of hell Mix with his hearth. But you — she 's yet a colt — 445 Take, break her. Strongly groom' d and straitly curb'd She might not rank with those detestable That let the bantling scald at home, and brawl Their rights or wrongs like potherbs in the street. They say she 's comely ; there 's the fairer chance. 450 / like her none the less for rating at her ! Besides, the woman wed is not as /e, But suffers change of frame. A lusty brace Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy, The bearing and the training of a child 455 canto v] A MEDLEY 77 Is woman's wisdom.' Thus the hard old king. I took my leave, for it was nearly noon. I pored upon her letter which I held, And on the little clause, ' take not his life ; ' I mus'd on that wild morning in the woods, 460 And on the ' Follow, follow, thou shalt win. ' I thought on all the wrathful king had said, And how the strange betrothment was to end. Then I remember' d that burnt sorcerer's curse That one should fight with shadows and should fall ; 4 6 5 And like a flash the weird affection came. King, camp, and college turn'd to hollow shows; I seem'd to move in old memorial tilts, And doing battle with forgotten ghosts, To dream myself the shadow of a dream ; 470 And ere I woke it was the point of noon, The lists were ready. Empanopli'd and plum'd We enter' d in, and waited, fifty there Opposed to fifty, till the trumpet blared At the barrier like a wild horn in a land 475 Of echoes, and a moment, and once more The trumpet, and again ; at which the storm Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of spears And riders front to front, until they closed In conflict with the crash of shivering points, 480 And thunder. Yet it seem'd a dream, I dream' d Of fighting. On his haunches rose the steed, And into fiery splinters leapt the lance, And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire. Part sat like rocks ; part reel'd but kept their seats ; 485 Part roll'd on the earth and rose again and drew ; Part stumbled mix'd with floundering horses. Down 78 THE PRINCESS [canto V From those two bulks at Arac's side, and down From Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail, The large blows rain'd, as here and everywhere 490 He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists, And all the plain, — brand, mace, and shaft, and shield — Shock' d, like an iron-clanging anvil bang'd With hammers ; till I thought, can this be he From Gama's dwarfish loins? If this be so, 495 The mother makes us most — and in my dream I glanc'd aside, and saw the palace-front Alive with fluttering scarfs and ladies' eyes, And highest, among the statues, statuelike, Between a cymbal' d Miriam and a Jael, 500 With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us, A single band of gold about her hair, Like a Saint's glory up in heaven ; but she No saint — inexorable — no tenderness — Too hard, too cruel. Yet she sees me fight, 505 Yea, let her see me fall ! With that I drave Among the thickest and bore down a Prince, And Cyril one. Yea, let me make my dream All that I would. But that large-moulded man, His visage all agrin as at a wake, 510 Made at me thro' the press, and, staggering back With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman, came As comes a pillar of electric cloud, Flaying the roofs and sucking up the drains, And shadowing down the champaign till it strikes 515 On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits, And twists the grain with such a roar that Earth Reels, and the herdsmen cry ; for everything Gave way before him. Only Florian, he That lov'd me closer than his own right eye, 52c canto v] A MEDLEY 79 Thrust in between. But Arac rode him down : And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the Prince, With Psyche's color round his helmet, tough, Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms; But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that smote 525 And threw him. Last I spurr'd ; I felt my veins Stretch with fierce heat. A moment hand to hand, And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung, Till I struck out and shouted. The blade glanc'd, I did but shear a feather, and dream and truth 530 Flow'd from me. Darkness closed me ; and I fell. Home they brought her warrior dead ; She nor swoon'd nor utter'd cry : All her maidens, watching, said, ' She must weep or she will die.' Then they prais'd him, soft and low, Call'd him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe ; Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face ; Yet she neither moved nor wept. Rose a nurse of ninety years, Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears — ' Sweet my child, I live for thee.' 80 THE PRINCESS [canto vi VI. My dream had never died or liv'd again. As in some mystic middle state I lay. Seeing I saw not, hearing not I heard ; Tho', if I saw not, yet they told me all So often that I speak as having seen. 5 For so it seem'd, or so they said to me, That all things grew more tragic and more strange ; That when our side was vanquish' d and my cause For ever lost, there went up a great cry, i The Prince is slain.' My father heard and ran 10 In on the lists, and there unlaced my casque And grovell'd on my body, and after him Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglai'a. But high upon the palace Ida stood With Psyche's babe in arm ; there on the roofs 15 Like that great dame of Lapidoth she sang. ' Our enemies have fallen, have fallen : the seed, The little seed they laugh'd at in the dark, Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk Of spanless girth, that lays on every side 20 A thousand arms and rushes to the sun. ' Our enemies have fallen, have fallen. They came ; The leaves were wet with women's tears ; they heard A noise of songs they would not understand ; They mark'd it with the red cross to the fall, 25 And would have strown it, and are fallen themselves. canto vi] A MEDLEY 3 1 ' Our enemies have fallen, have fallen. They came, The woodmen with their axes : lo the tree ! But we will make it faggots for the hearth, And shape it plank and beam for roof and floor, 30 And boats and bridges for the use of men. ' Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n. They struck ; With their own blows they hurt themselves, nor knew There dwelt an iron nature in the grain. The glittering axe was broken in their arms, 35 Their arms were shatter'd to the shoulder blade. ' Our enemies have fall'n, but this shall grow A night of Summer from the heat, a breadth Of Autumn, dropping fruits of power ; and roll'd With music in the growing breeze of Time, 40 The tops shall strike from star to star, the fangs Shall move the stony bases of the world. 1 And now, O maids, behold our sanctuary Is violate, our laws broken. Fear we not To break them more in their behoof, whose arms 45 Champion' d our cause and won it with a day Blanch' d in our annals, and perpetual feast, When dames and heroines of the golden year Shall strip a hundred hollows bare of Spring, To rain an April of ovation round 50 Their statues, borne aloft, the three. But come, We will be liberal, since our rights are won. Let them not lie in the tents with coarse mankind, 111 nurses ; but descend, and proffer these The brethren of our blood and cause, that there 55 Lie bruis'd and maim'd, the tender ministries Of female hands and hospitality.' THE PA ro ti - e spoke, and with the babe yet in her arms, Descending, burst the great bronze valves, and led A :.'.izti rv-iiif ::. :::. .. - :::■-- : r : :--:■'.. '■•' Some cowFd, and some bare-headed, on they came, Their feet in flowers, her loveliest. By them went The enamored air sighing, and on their curls r :::. Aie ':. z'z. ::tr :Ae : -: . ~ :■. e::r. r A A. : over them the tremulous isles of light Slided, they moving under shade ; but Blanche stance followed: so they came. Anon Thro* open field into the lists they wound Timorously : and as the leader of the herd That holds a stately fretwork to the sun, .'-.- i :":'.'.:- : :; :y :.':...:. i': L :..: ::e?. Steps with a tender foot, light as on air, To where her wounded brethren lay : there stay'd ; Knelt on one knee, — the child on one, — and pre . T.-.7.: r_L- ii. i.~. 1 ::'.. : :r.fr_: iea: '.... r:e:s. A.:, i .-...- irr :: ; ::. . .:.-"'. ::::. :.;:.. tf And said, ' You shall not lie in the tents but here, A:. : :..r: i :y : —A: ■':.: ... y :_ :': .....: ■:.: ::r. : A T.t:.. - ■':. eA.e: ~: e: :A = :: i -. iJLir.ce. She passed my way. Up started from my side Ave :.: '.::i. _...-.._ -< .:':. :..-. ■■ A el: '.t?s eye. Dishelm'd and mote, and motionlessly pale, Cold ev'n to her, she sigh'd ; and when she The :.i__i- i ::.:.-: « A;e ini re" e:er. : ' ei: : Of grisly twine, all dabbled with the blood . : :..s ; :. ; : . A. . lie: : - ' '■ .' :'.'. ::" : i:~ canto vi] A MEDLEY S$ Tortur'd her mouth, and o'er her forehead pass'd 90 A shadow, and her hue chang'd, and she said : 1 He saved my life ; my brother slew him for it ;' No more ; at which the king in bitter scorn Drew from my neck the painting and the tress, And held them up. She saw them, and a day 95 Rose from the distance on her memory, When the good queen, her mother, shore the tress With kisses, ere the days of Lady Blanche. And then once more she look'd at my pale face : Till understanding all the foolish work 100 Of Fancy, and the bitter close of all, Her iron will was broken in her mind ; Her noble heart was molten in her breast. She bow'd, she set the child on the earth ; she laid A feeling finger on my brows, and presently 105 ' O Sire,' she said, ' he lives ; he is not dead. O let me have him with my brethren here In our own palace. We will tend on him Like one of these ; if so, by any means, To lighten this great clog of thanks, that make no Our progress falter to the woman's goal.' She said : but at the happy word ' he lives ' My father stoop' d, re-father' d o'er my wounds. So those two foes above my fallen life, With brow to brow like night and evening mix'd 115 Their dark and gray, while Psyche ever stole A little nearer, till the babe that by us, Half-lapp'd in glowing gauze and golden brede, Lay like a new-fallen meteor on the grass, Uncared for, spied its mother and began 120 A blind and babbling laughter, and to dance 84 THE PRINCESS [canto vi Its body, and reach its fatling innocent arms And lazy lingering fingers. She the appeal Brook' d not, but clamoring out ' Mine — mine — not yours ; It is not yours, but mine. Give me the child ! ' 125 Ceas'd all on tremble. Piteous was the cry. So stood the unhappy mother open -mouth' d, And turn'd each face her way. Wan was her cheek With hollow watch, her blooming mantle torn, Red grief and mother's hunger in her eye, 130 And down dead-heavy sank her curls, and half The sacred mother's bosom, panting, burst The laces toward her babe. But she nor cared Nor knew it, clamoring on, till Ida heard, Look'd up, and rising slowly from me, stood 135 Erect and silent, striking with her glance The mother, me, the child. But he that lay Beside us, Cyril, batter' d as he was, Trail' d himself up on one knee. Then he drew Her robe to meet his lips, and down she look'd 140 At the arm'd man sideways, pitying as it seem'd, Or self-involv'd. But when she learn' d his face, Remembering his ill-omen' d song, arose Once more thro' all her height, and o'er him grew Tall as a figure lengthen' d on the sand 145 When the tide ebbs in sunshine, and he said : 1 O fair and strong and terrible ! Lioness That with your long locks play the lion's mane ! But Love and Nature, these are two more terrible And stronger. See, your foot is on our necks, 150 We vanquish' d, you the victor of your will. What would you more ? Give her the child ! Remain Orb'd in your isolation. He is dead, canto vi] A MEDLEY 85 Or all as dead. Henceforth we let you be. Win you the hearts of women ; and beware 155 Lest, where you seek the common love of these, The common hate with the revolving wheel Should drag you down, and some great Nemesis Break from a darken' d future, crown' d with fire, And tread you out for ever. But howsoe'er 160 Fix'd in yourself, never in your own arms To hold your own, deny not hers to her, Give her the child ! O if, I say, you keep One pulse that beats true woman, if you lov'd The breast that fed or arm that dandled you, 165 Or own one port of sense not flint to prayer, Give her the child ! Or if you scorn to lay it, Yourself, in hands so lately clasp' d with yours, Or speak to her, your dearest, her one fault The tenderness, not yours, that could not kill, 170 Give me it ; /will give it her.' He said. At first her eye with slow dilation roll'd Dry flame, she listening ; after sank and sank And, into mournful twilight mellowing, dwelt Full on the child. She took it. ' Pretty bud ! i75 Lily of the vale ! Half-open' d bell of the woods ! Sole comfort of my dark hour, when a world Of traitorous friend and broken system made No purple in the distance, mystery, Pledge of a love not to be mine, farewell ! 180 These men are hard upon us as of old, We two must part; and yet how fain was I To dream thy cause embraced in mine, to think I might be something to thee, when I felt Thy helpless warmth about my barren breast 185 86 THE PRINCESS [canto vi In the dead prime. But may thy mother prove As true to thee as false, false, false to me ! And, if thou needs must bear the yoke, I wish it Gentle as freedom ' — here she kiss'd it ; then — ' All good go with thee ! Take it, Sir,' and so 19° Laid the soft babe in his hard-mailed hands, Who turn'd half-round to Psyche as she sprang To meet it, with an eye that swum in thanks ; Then felt it sound and whole from head to foot, And hugg'd and never hugg'd it close enough, 195 And in her hunger mouth' d and mumbled it, And hid her bosom with it ; after that Put on more calm and added suppliantly : * We two were friends. I go to mine own land For ever ; find some other. As for me ■ 200 I scarce am fit for your great plans ; yet speak to me, Say one soft word and let me part forgiven.' But Ida spoke not, rapt upon the child. Then Arac : ' Ida — 'sdeath ! you blame the man ; You wrong yourselves — the woman is so hard 205 Upon the woman. Come, a grace to me ! I am your warrior ; I and mine have fought Your battle. Kiss her ; take her hand. She weeps. 'Sdeath ! I would sooner fight thrice o'er than see it.' But Ida spoke not, gazing on the ground, 210 And reddening in the furrows of his chin, And moved beyond his custom, Gama said : 'I 've heard that there is iron in the blood, And I believe it. Not one word ? Not one ? canto vi] A MEDLEY 87 Whence drew you this steel temper? Not from me, 215 Not from your mother, now a saint with saints. She said you had a heart — I heard her say it — " Our Ida has a heart" — just ere she died — " But see that some one with authority Be near her still. ' ' And I — I sought for one — 220 All people said she had authority — The Lady Blanche. Much profit ! Not one word ; No ! tho' your father sues. See how you stand Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the good knights maim'd, — I trust that there is no one hurt to death, 225 For your wild whim. And was it then for this, Was it for this we gave our palace up, Where we withdrew from summer heats and state, And had our wine and chess beneath the planes, And many a pleasant hour with her that 's gone, 230 Ere you were born to vex us ? Is it kind ? Speak to her, I say. Is this not she of whom, When first she came, all flush' d you said to me, Now had you got a friend of your own age, Now could you share your thought; now should men see 235 Two women faster welded in one love Than pairs of wedlock? she you walk'd with, she You talk'd with, whole nights long, up in the tower, Of sine and arc, spheroid and azimuth, And right ascension, Heaven knows what ; and now 240 A word, but one, one little kindly word, Not one to spare her. Out upon you, flint ! You love nor her, nor me, nor any. Nay, You shame your mother's judgment too. Not one? You will not ? Well — no heart have you, or such 245 As fancies like the vermin in a nut SS THE PRINCESS [canto VI Have fretted all to dust and bitterness.' So said the small king moved beyond his wont. ^^ But Ida stood nor spoke, drain' d of her force By many a varying influence and so long. 250 Down thro' her limbs a drooping languor wept : Her head a little bent ; and on her mouth A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded moon In a still water. Then brake out my sire, Lifting his grim head from my wounds : ' O you, 255 Woman, whom we thought woman even now, And were half fool'd to let you tend our son, Because he might have wish'd it — but we see The accomplice of your madness unforgiven, And think that you might mix his draught with death, 260 When your skies change again. The rougher hand Is safer. On to the tents. Take up the Prince.'' He rose, and while each ear was prick' d to attend A tempest, thro' the cloud that dimm'd her broke A genial warmth and light once more, and shone 265 Thro' glittering drops on her sad friend. ' Come hither, Psyche,' she cried out, 'embrace me, come, Quick while I melt. Make reconcilement sure With one that cannot keep her mind an hour. Come to the hollow heart they slander so ! 270 Kiss and be friends, like children being chid ! / seem no more ; / want forgiveness too. 1 should have had to do with none but maids, That have no links with men. Ah false but dear, Dear traitor, too much lov'd, why? — why? — Yet see, 275 Before these kings we embrace you yet once more With all forgiveness, all oblivion, canto vi] A MEDLEY 89 And trust, not love, you less. And now, O Sire, Grant me your son, to nurse, to wait upon him, Like mine own brother. For my debt to him, 280 This nightmare weight of gratitude, I know it; Taunt me no more. Yourself and yours shall have Free adit. We will scatter all our maids Till happier times each to her proper hearth. What use to keep them here— now ? Grant my prayer. 285 Help, father, brother, help; speak to the king. Thaw this male nature to some touch of that Which kills me with myself, and drags me down From my fix'd height to mob me up with all The soft and milky rabble of womankind, 2qo Poor weakling ev'n as they are.' Passionate tears Follow'd. The king replied not. Cyril said: 'Your brother, Lady,— Florian,— ask for him Of your great Head— for he is wounded too— That you may tend upon him with the Prince.' 2Q5 'Ay, so,' said Ida with a bitter smile, ' Our laws are broken ; let him enter too. ' Then Violet, she that sang the mournful song, And had a cousin tumbled on the plain, Petition'd too for him. * Ay, so,' she said, 3O0 < I stagger in the stream ■ I cannot keep My heart an eddy from the brawling hour. We break our laws with ease, but let it be. ' 'Ay, so? ' said Blanche : 'Amazed am I to hear Your Highness. But your Highness breaks with ease 305 The law your Highness did not make : 't was I. I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind, 90 THE PRINCESS [canto VI And block' d them out. But these men came to woo Your Highness — verily I think to win.' So she, and turn'd askance a wintry eye. 310 But Ida, with a voice that, like a bell Toll'd by an earthquake in a trembling tower, Rang ruin, answer' d full of grief and scorn : 'Fling our doors wide ! All, all, not one, but all, Not only he, but by my mother's soul, 315 Whatever man lies wounded, friend or foe, Shall enter, if he will ! Let our girls flit, Till the storm die ! But had you stood by us, The roar that breaks the Pharos from his base Had left us rock. She fain would sting us too, 320 But shall not. Pass, and mingle with your likes. . We brook no further insult, but are gone.' She turn'd ; the very nape of her white neck Was rosed with indignation. But the Prince Her brother came ; the king her father charm' d 325 Her wounded soul with words. Nor did mine own Refuse her proffer, lastly gave his hand. Then us they lifted up, dead weights, and bare Straight to the doors. To them the doors gave way Groaning, and in the Vestal entry shriek' d 330 The virgin marble under iron heels. And on they moved and gain'd the hall, and there Rested. But great the crush was, and each base, To left and right, of those tall columns drown' d In silken fluctuation and the swarm 335 Of female whisperers. At the further end canto vi] A MEDLEY 9 1 Was Ida by the throne, the two great cats Close by her, like supporters on a shield, Bow -back' d with fear. But in the centre stood The common men with rolling eyes. Amazed 34Q They glared upon the women, and aghast The women stared at these, all silent, save When armor clash' d or jingled, while the day, Descending, struck athwart the hall, and shot A flying splendor out of brass and steel, 345 That o'er the statues leapt from head to head, Now fired an angry Pallas on the helm, Now set a wrathful Dian's moon on flame ; And now and then an echo started up, And shuddering fled from room to room, and died 350 Of fright in far apartments. Then the voice Of Ida sounded, issuing ordinance. And me they bore up the broad stairs, and thro' The long-laid galleries past a hundred doors To one deep chamber shut from sound, and due 355 To languid limbs and sickness; left me in it. And others otherwhere they laid. And all That afternoon a sound arose of hoof And chariot, many a maiden passing home Till happier times. But some were left of those 360 Held sagest, and the great lords out and in, From those two hosts that lay beside the walls, Walk'd at their will, and everything was chang'd. Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea ; The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape, With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape ; But O too fond, when have I answer'd thee ? Ask me no more. THE PRINCESS [canto vn Ask me no more : what answer should I give ? I love not hollow cheek or faded eye : Yet, O my friend, I will not have thee die ! Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live ; Ask me no more. Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are seal'd : I strove against the stream and all in vain : Let the great river take me to the main : No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield ; Ask me no more. VII. So was their sanctuary violated, So their fair college turn'd to hospital ; At first with all confusion. By and by Sweet order liv'd again with other laws. A kindlier influence reign' d; and everywhere 5 Low voices with the ministering hand Hung round the sick. The maidens came, they talk'd, They sang, they read : till she not fair began To gather light, and she that was became Her former beauty treble ; and to and fro 10 With books, with flowers, with angel offices, Like creatures native unto gracious act, And in their own clear element, they moved. But sadness on the soul of Ida fell, And hatred of her weakness, blent with shame. 15 Old studies fail'd ; seldom she spoke ; but oft Clomb to the roofs, and gazed alone for hours On that disastrous leaguer, swarms of men Darkening her female field. Void was her use, And she as one that climbs a peak to gaze 20 canto vn] A MEDLEY 93 O'er land and main, and sees a great black cloud Drag inward from trie deeps, a wall of night, Blot out the slope of sea from verge to shore, And suck the blinding splendor from the sand, And quenching lake by lake and tarn by tarn 25 Expunge the world : so fared she gazing there ; So blacken' d all her world in secret, blank And waste it seem'd and vain ; till down she came, And found fair peace once more among the sick. And twilight dawn'd ; and morn by morn the lark 30 Shot up and shrill' d in flickering gyres, but I Lay silent in the muffled cage of life. And twilight gloom' d ; and broader-grown the bowers Drew the great night into themselves, and Heaven, Star after star, arose and fell. But I, 35 Deeper than those weird doubts could reach me, lay Quite sunder' d from the moving Universe, Nor knew what eye was on me, nor the hand That nurs'd me, more than infants in their sleep. But Psyche tended Florian. With her oft 40 Melissa came ; for Blanche had gone, but left Her child among us, willing she should keep Court-favor. Here and there the small bright head, A light of healing, glanc'd about the couch, Or thro' the parted silks the tender face 45 Peep'd, shining in upon the wounded man With blush and smile, a medicine in themselves To wile the length from languorous hours, and draw The sting from pain. Nor seem'd it strange that soon He rose up whole, and those fair charities 50 Join'd at her side. Nor stranger seem'd that hearts 94 THE PRINCESS [canto VII So gentle, so employ' d, should close in love, Than when two dewdrops on the petal shake To the same sweet air, and tremble deeper down, And slip at once all-fragrant into one. 55 Less prosperously the second suit obtain' d At first with Psyche. Not tho' Blanche had sworn That after that dark night among the fields She needs must wed him for her own good name ; Not tho' he built upon the babe restored ; 60 Nor tho' she liked him, yielded she, but fear'd To incense the Head once more ; till on a day When Cyril pleaded, Ida came behind Seen but of Psyche. On her foot she hung A moment, and she heard, at which her face 65 A little flush' d, and she pass'd on ; but each Assum'd from thence a half-consent involv'd In stillness, plighted troth, and were at peace. Nor only these : Love in the sacred halls Held carnival at will, and flying struck 70 With showers of random sweet on maid and man. Nor did her father cease to press my claim, Nor did mine own now reconciled ; nor yet Did those twin brothers, ris'n again and whole ; Nor Arac, satiate with his victory. 75 But I lay still, and with me oft she sat. Then came a change ; for sometimes I would catch Her hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard, And fling it like a viper off, and shriek, 1 You are not Ida ; ' clasp it once again, 80 And call her Ida, tho' I knew her not, canto vn] A MEDLEY 95 And call her sweet, as if in irony, And call her hard and cold, which seem'd a truth. And still she fear'd that I should lose my mind, And often she believ'd that I should die : 85 Till out of long frustration of her care, And pensive tendance in the all -weary noons, And watches in the dead, the dark, when clocks Throbb'd thunder thro' the palace floors, or call'd On flying Time from all their silver tongues — 90 And out of memories of her kindlier days, And sidelong glances at my father's grief, And at the happy lovers heart in heart — And out of hauntings of my spoken love, And lonely listenings to my mutter' d dream, 95 And often feeling of the helpless hands, And wordless broodings on the wasted cheek— From all a closer interest flourish' d up, Tenderness touch by touch, and last, to these, Love, like an Alpine harebell hung with tears 100 By some cold morning glacier ; frail at first And feeble, all unconscious of itself, But such as gather' d color day by day. Last I woke sane, but well-nigh close to death For weakness. It was evening : silent light 105 Slept on the painted walls, wherein were wrought Two grand designs ; for on one side arose The women up in wild revolt, and storm' d At the Oppian law. Titanic shapes, they cramm'd The forum, and half-crush' d among the rest no A dwarf-like Cato cower' d. On the other side Hortensia spoke against the tax ; behind, A train of dames. By axe and eagle sat, 96 THE PRINCESS [canto vii With all their foreheads drawn in Roman scowls, And half the wolf's-milk curdled in their veins, 115 The fierce triumvirs; and before them paus'd Hortensia, pleading. Angry was her face. I saw the forms ; I knew not where I was. They did but look like hollow shows ; nor more Sweet Ida. Palm to palm she sat ; the dew 120 Dwelt in her eyes, and softer all her shape And rounder seem' d. I moved ; I sigh' d. A touch Came round my wrist, and tears upon my hand. Then all for languor and self-pity ran Mine down my face, and with what life I had, 125 And like a flower that cannot all unfold, So drench' d it is with tempest, to the sun, Yet, as it may, turns toward him, I on her Fix'd my faint eyes, and utter' d whisperingly : 'If you be, what I think you, some sweet dream, 130 I would but ask you to fulfil yourself. But if you be that Ida whom I knew, I ask you nothing; only, if a dream, Sweet dream, be perfect. I shall die to-night. Stoop down and seem to kiss me ere I die.' 135 I could no more, but lay like one in trance, That hears his burial talk' d of by his friends, And cannot speak, nor move, nor make one sign, But lies and dreads his doom. She turn'd ; she paus'd; She stoop' d ; and out of languor leapt a cry ; 140 Leapt fiery Passion from the brinks of death ; And I believ'd that in the living world My spirit closed with Ida's at the lips; canto vii] A MEDLEY Qj Till back I fell, and from mine arms she rose Glowing all over noble shame. And all 145 Her falser self slipp'd from her like a robe, And left her woman, lovelier in her mood Than in her mould that other, when she came From barren deeps to conquer all with love ; And down the streaming crystal dropp'd; and she 150 Far-fleeted by the purple island-sides, Naked, a double light in air and wave, To meet her Graces, where they deck'd her out For worship without end ; nor end of mine, Stateliest, for thee ! But mute she glided forth, 155 Nor glanc'd behind her, and I sank and slept, Fill'd thro' and thro' with love, a happy sleep. Deep in the night I woke ; she, near me, held A volume of the Poets of her land. There to herself, all in low tones, she read. 160 ' Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white ; Nor waves the cypress in the palace walk ; Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font : The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with me. 'Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost, 165 And like a ghost she glimmers on to me. ' Now lies the Earth all Danae to the stars, And all thy heart lies open unto me. ' Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me. 170 ' Now folds the lily all her sweetness up, And slips into the bosom of the lake : So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and slip Into my bosom and be lost in me.' 98 THE PRINCESS [canto vii I heard her turn the page ; she found a small *75 Sweet Idyl, and once more, as low, she read . 1 Come down, O maid, from yonder mountain height. What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang), In height and cold, the splendor of the hills ? But cease to move so near the Heavens, and cease 180 To glide a sunbeam by the blasted pine, To sit a star upon the sparkling spire. And come, for Love is of the valley, come, For Love is of the valley, come thou down And find him ; by the happy threshold, he, 185 Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize, Or red with spirted purple of the vats, Or foxlike in the vine ; nor cares to walk With Death and Morning on the Silver Horns. Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine, 190 Nor find him dropp'd upon the firths of ice, That huddling slant in furrow -cloven falls To roll the torrent out of dusky doors. But follow ; let the torrent dance thee down To find him in the valley ; let the wild 195 Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone, and leave The monstrous ledges there to slope, and spill Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, That like a broken purpose waste in air. So waste not thou ; but come ; for all the vales 200 Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth Arise to thee ; the children call, and I Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every sound, Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet ; Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn, 205 The moan of doves in immemorial elms, And murmuring of innumerable bees.' So she low-toned ; while with shut eyes I lay Listening, then look'd. Pale was the perfect face; The bosom with long sighs labor' d ; and meek 210 Seem'd the full lips, and mild the luminous eyes, canto vii] A MEDLEY 99 And the voice trembled and the hand. She said Brokenly, that she knew it, she had fail'd In sweet humility ; had fail'd in all ; That all her labor was but as a block 215 Left in the quarry. But she still were loth, She still were loth to yield herself to one That wholly scorn' d to help their equal rights Against the sons of men and barbarous laws. She pray'd me not to judge their cause from her 220 That wrong' d it, sought far less for truth than power In knowledge : something wild within her breast, A greater than all knowledge, beat her down. And she had nurs'd me there from week to week. Much had she learn' d in little time. In part 225 It was ill counsel had misled the girl To vex true hearts. Yet was she but a girl — ' Ah fool, and made myself a queen of farce ! When comes another such ? Never, I think, Till the sun drop, dead, from the signs.' Her voice 230 Choked, and her forehead sank upon her hands, And her great heart thro' all the faultful past Went sorrowing in a pause I dared not break ; Till notice of a change in the dark world Was lisp'd about the acacias, and a bird, 235 That early woke to feed her little ones, Sent from a dewy breast a cry for light. She moved, and at her feet the volume fell. ' Blame not thyself too much, ' I said, ' nor blame Too much the sons of men and barbarous laws : 240 These were the rough ways of the world till now. Henceforth thou hast a helper, me, that know L, •/ C. IOO THE PRINCESS [canto vn The woman's cause is man's. They rise or sink Together, dwarf d or godlike, bond or free. For she that out of Lethe scales with man 245 The shining steps of Nature, shares with man His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal, Stays all the fair young planet in her hands — If she be small, slight-natur'd, miserable, How shall men grow ? But work no more alone ! 250 Our place is much. As far as in us lies We two will serve them both in aiding her — Will clear away the parasitic forms That seem to keep her up but drag her down — Will leave her space to burgeon out of all 255 Within her — let her make herself her own To give or keep, to live and learn and be All that not harms distinctive womanhood. For woman is not undevelop'd man, But diverse. Could we make her as the man, 260 Sweet Love were slain. His dearest bond is this, Not like to like, but like in difference. Yet in the long years liker must they grow : The man be more of woman, she of man ; He gain in sweetness and in moral height, 265 Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world : She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care, Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind ; Till at the last she set herself to man, Like perfect music unto noble words. 270 And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time, Sit side by side, full-summ'd in all their powers, Dispensing harvest, sowing the To-be, Self-reverent each and reverencing each, Distinct in individualities, 275 canto vn] A MEDLEY IOI But like each other ev'n as those who love. Then comes the statelier Eden back to men ; Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm; Then springs the crowning race of humankind. May these things be ! ' Sighing she spoke. ' I fear 2S0 They will not. ' ' Dear, but let us type them now In our own lives, and this proud watchword rest Of equal ; seeing either sex alone Is half itself, and in true marriage lies Nor equal, nor unequal. Each fulfils 285 Defect in each, and always thought in thought, Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow, The single pure and perfect animal, The two-cell'd heart beating, with one full stroke, Life.' And again sighing she spoke. ' A dream 290 That once was mine ! What woman taught you this ? ' ' Alone,' I said, 'from earlier than I know, Immers'd in rich foreshadowings of the world, I lov'd the woman. He, that doth not, lives A drowning life, besotted in sweet self, 295 Or pines in sad experience worse than death, Or keeps his wing'd affections clipp'd with crime. Yet was there one thro' whom I lov'd her, one Not learned, save in gracious household ways, Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants, 300 No angel, but a dearer being, all dipp'd In angel instincts, breathing Paradise, Interpreter between the Gods and men, Who look'd all native to her place, and yet 102 THE PRIX CESS [canto vii On tiptoe seem'd to touch upon a sphere 305 Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce Sway'd to her from their orbits as they moved, And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother ! Faith in womankind Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high 31° Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay. ' < But I,' Said Ida, tremulously, ' so all unlike — It seems you love to cheat yourself with words : This mother is your model. I have heard 315 Of your strange doubts. They well might be : I seem A mockery to my own self. Never, Prince ; You cannot love me.' 1 Nay, but thee,' I said, 1 From yearlong poring on thy pictur'd eyes, Ere seen I lov'd, and lov'd thee seen, and saw 320 Thee woman thro' the crust of iron moods That mask'd thee from men's reverence up, and forc'd Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood. Now, Giv'n back to life, to life indeed, thro' thee, Indeed I love. The new day comes, the light 3 2 5 Dearer for night, as dearer thou for faults Liv'd over. Lift thine eyes : my doubts are dead, My haunting sense of hollow shows ; the change, This truthful change in thee has kill'd it. Dear, Lookup, and let thy nature strike on mine, 35° Like yonder morning on the blind half-world. Approach and fear not ; breathe upon my brows. In that fine air I tremble, all the past Melts mist-like into this bright hour, and this Is morn to more, and all the rich to-come 335 conclusion] A MEDLEY I03 Reels, as the golden autumn woodland reels Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. Forgive me, I waste my heart in signs : let be. My bride, My wife, my life ! O we will walk this world, Yoked in all exercise of noble end, 340 And so thro' those dark gates across the wild That no man knows. Indeed I love thee : come, Yield thyself up. My hopes and thine are one. Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself; Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.' 345 CONCLUSION. So closed our tale, of which I give you all The random scheme as wildly as it rose. The words are mostly mine ; for when we ceas'd There came a minute's pause, and Walter said, ' I wish she had not yielded ! ' Then to me, 5 * What if you dress' d it up poetically ! ' So pray'd the men, the women. I gave assent : Yet how to bind the scatter' d scheme of seven Together in one sheaf? What style could suit? The men required that I should give throughout 10 The sort of mock-heroic gigantesque, With which we banter'd little Lilia first. The women — and perhaps they felt their power, For something in the ballads which they sang, Or in their silent influence as they sat, 15 Had ever seem'd to wrestle with burlesque, And drove us, last, to quite a solemn close — They hated banter, wish'd for something real, A gallant fight, a noble princess — why 104 THE PRINCESS [conclusion Not make her true-heroic — true-sublime? 20 Or all, they said, as earnest as the close ? Which yet with such a framework scarce could be. Then rose a little feud betwixt the two, Betwixt the mockers and the realists ; And I, betwixt them both, to please them both, 25 And yet to give the story as it rose, I moved as in a strange diagonal, And maybe neither pleas' d myself nor them. But Lilia pleas' d me, for she took no part In our dispute. The sequel of the tale • 30 Had touch' d her ; and she sat, she pluck' d the grass, She flung it from her, thinking. Last, she fix'd A showery glance upon her aunt, and said, 1 You — tell us what we are ' — who might have told, For she was cramm'd with theories out of books, ' 35 But that there rose a shout. The gates were closed At sunset, and the crowd were swarming now, To take their leave, about the garden rails. So I and some went out to these. We climb' d The slope to Vivian-place, and turning saw 4° The happy valleys, half in light, and half Far-shadowing from the west, a land of peace ; Gray halls alone among their massive groves ; Trim hamlets ; here and there a rustic tower Half-lost in belts of hop and breadths of wheat ; 45 The shimmering glimpses of a stream ; the seas ; A red sail, or a white ; and far beyond, Imagin'd more than seen, the skirts of France. < Look there, a garden ! ' said my college friend, The Tory member's elder son, ' and there ! 5© conclusion] A MEDLEY 105 God bless the narrow sea which keeps her off, And keeps our Britain, whole within herself, A nation yet, the rulers and the rul'd — Some sense of duty, something of a faith, Some reverence for the laws ourselves have -made, 55 Some patient force to change them when we will, Some civic manhood firm against the crowd — But yonder, whiff ! There comes a sudden heat, The gravest citizen seems to lose his head, The king is scared, the soldier will not fight, 60 The little boys begin to shoot and stab, A kingdom topples over with a shriek Like an old woman, and down rolls the world In mock heroics stranger than our own ; Revolts, republics, revolutions, most 65 No graver than a schoolboys' barring out ; Too comic for the solemn things they are, Too solemn for the comic touches in them, Like our wild Princess with as wise a dream As some of theirs — God bless the narrow seas ! 70 1 wish they were a whole Atlantic broad.' ' Have patience,' I replied, i ourselves are full Of social wrong ; and maybe wildest dreams Are but the needful preludes of the truth. For me, the genial day, the happy crowd, 75 The sport half-science, fill me with a faith. This fine old world of ours is but a child Yet in the go-cart. Patience ! Give it time To learn its limbs : there is a hand that guides. ' In such discourse we gain'd the garden rails, 80 And there we saw Sir Walter where he stood, 106 THE PRINCESS [conclusion Before a tower of crimson holly-oaks, Among six boys, head under head, and look'd No little lily-handed baronet he, A great broad-shoulder' d genial Englishman, 85 A lord of fat prize-oxen and of sheep, A raiser of huge melons and of pine, A patron of some thirty charities, A pamphleteer on guano and on grain, A quarter-sessions chairman, abler none ; go Fair- hair' d and redder than a windy morn ; Now shaking hands with him, now him, of those That stood the nearest — now address' d to speech — Who spoke few words and pithy, such as closed Welcome, farewell, and welcome for the year 95 To follow. A shout rose again, and made The long line of the approaching rookery swerve . From the elms, and shook the branches of the deer From slope to slope thro' distant ferns, and rang Beyond the bourn of sunset ; O, a shout 100 More joyful than the city -roar that hails Premier or king ! Why should not these great Sirs Give up their parks some dozen times a year To let the people breathe ? So thrice they cried, I likewise, and in groups theystream'd away. 105 But we went back to the Abbey, and sat on, So much the gathering darkness charm' d. We sat But spoke not, rapt in nameless reverie, Perchance upon the future man. The walls Blacken' d about us, bats wheel' d, and owls whoop' d, no And gradually the powers of the night, That range above the region of the wind, Deepening the courts of twilight broke them up conclusion] A MEDLEY I ; Tl ro' all the silent spaces of the worlds Beyond all thought into the Heaven of Heavens. Last little Lilia, rising quietly, Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir Ralph From those rich silks, and home well-pleas'd we went. 115 REFERENCES AND ABBREVIATIONS. Cf.. Compare. Collins, John Churton : Illustrations of Tennyson; London, 1 891. Cook, Albert S. : Tennyson s The Princess; Boston, 1897. Dawson, S. E. : A Study of Lord Tennyson's Toem, The Princess; second edition ; Montreal, 1884. Rolfe, William J.: The Princess; A Medley; Boston, 1890. Spedding, Ellis and Heath : Works of Francis Bacon; 15 vols., Bos- ton, 1869. Tegner, Esaias : Frithiof s Saga; Boston, 1878. Tennyson, Alfred Lord : Life and Works; 10 vols., New York, 1899. * Alfred Lord Tennyson. A Memoir by His Son; 2 vols., New York, 1897. Wallace, Percy M. : The Princess; A Medley; New York, 1892. Waugh, Arthur: Alfred Lord Tennyson; New York, 1896. Woodberry, George Edward : The Princess; New York, 1898. Single quotation-marks indicate suggestive paraphrases or equivalences of given text meanings. Line and stanza refer- ences to other poems of the author are made to the complete edition of 1899. Question paragraphs follow divisions of the text. 108 NOTES AND ANALYTIC QUESTIONS PROLOGUE. 1 Sir Walter Vivian. Mr. Henry Lushington was doubtless here, as a type of the English gentleman, more or less in the author's mind. " The scene of the opening, I am informed, was Maidstone Park, where in 1844 a festival of the Mechanics' Institution was held under the pat- ronage of Mr. Lushington. Tennyson was himself present on a bril- liantly sunny day, the crowd amounting to between one and two thousand people. My informant, who was present on the occasion, tells me that the poet's description of the scene exactly tallies with his own memory of the day's proceedings. The dedication to Henry Lushington is also in- teresting, since it was probably the outcome of the poet's visit to his friend at the time when he was reconsidering the poem for its second edi- tion. ' ' — Wangh. 2 Lawns. " Natural pasture-land or unfilled glade, such as contributes so much to the charm of an English country gentleman's park." — Wallace. Very different from " lawn," or garden lawn (cf. 1. 95, below). 9 We were seven. Of course Tennyson must have been aware that he was echoing one of Wordsworth's titles. There are seven cantos of the coming poem to be accounted for, and each representative of the " set " is to be responsible for one. II Greek. Shaped somewhat like a Greek temple, with high pillars in front. Houses are now seldom built in this style, but were common in England a hundred years or more ago. Tennyson refers apparently {cf. Memoir, L, p. 182) to the home of the Lushingtons, which was called Park House. 13 Pave?nent. Floor of the hall, laid in squares of stone. 14 Stones of the Abbey -ruin. Elaborate scrolls or figures saved from the Abbey-ruin about to be described. 1 (a) Why did not the author, who was not above accepting a patent of nobility for himself, make this Walter a Duke, or at least an Earl ? (b) Would that have pleased English readers generally, or yourself, as well? Why? (c) What changes are needed to reduce the first line to prose ? (d) What, to make prose of the second line ? 2 (a) Why does the author put me (1. 10) out of its place, and thus mar the naturalness of the line? (b) Is of all heavens (1. 12) poetry of the sublime or of the beautiful ? (c) How would of all zones, of all climes, 109 1 10 THE PRINCESS [prologue 15 Ammonites. Fossil shells, shaped somewhat like the nautilus, but highly ornamented with knobs, spines, and foliated figures. Specimens have been found measuring as much as four feet in diameter. 17 Celts. Prehistoric implements of bronze or stone, shaped like a chisel or a hatchet. 18 Claymore. A large two-edged and two-handed broadsword, once the weapon of the Scottish Highlanders. 19 Sandal. A fragrant wood from the Orient, used as material for carved fans and ornaments. 20 Ivory sphere in sphere. Chinese ivory balls, carved with great deft- ness, one within another, in a definite series. 21 Curs' d Malayan crease. A long dagger with a waved blade, called "cursed" because of its use, in running amuck, by crazed Malayans. 25 Aginconrt. The village near which the French, in 141 5, were signally routed by Henry V. 26 Ascalon. An important seaport of Palestine, during the Crusades. Richard Cceur de Lion captured it by his defeat of Saladin in 1192. of all lands, severally answer, if substituted for it ? (d) What exactly does first bones of Time (1. 15) mean? Is the figure spiritually true ? (e) Do you imagine Sir Walter would have approved his guest's judg- ment in jumbled (1. 17) ? (/) Do you take it that there was absolutely no plan, no principle of arrangement ? (g) Would it apparently have suited the person in whose stead the author pretends to speak in this Pro- logue, if all the articles in the hall were labelled, and arranged as in an actual museum ? Would it have pleased you better? (h) What does the fact of a home of such architecture, "set with busts" outside, argue with respect to the taste and culture of its founder or its head ? (i) Again, what sort of mind has ordered this use (11. 11-22) of the "hall" as a conservatory, and a museum of scientific curios, combined? (j) To what use, properly, generally, is such a hall, hung (11. 23, 24) with an- cestral armor, put ? {k) Would you be likely to find such a hall, put to such a use, in Germany or France ? (/) Show why the generic singular in claymore and snow-shoe (-1. 18) is more to the "poetic" purpose than clay- mores and sno70-shoes would have been, (m) Is toys in Ihva more poetic than toys of or wrought from, lava ? (w) Are you pleased, in reference to its sense here, with the word orient (1. 20) ? Is there any such thing as occidental ivory ? (0) Why did Tennyson choose the corresponding word ? (p) What, on reading the syllables slowly, does the line signify in sound ? () In what does the likeness between the notes of the linnet and woman's singing consist,— is it quality or pitch ? I. I (a) What characterization is effected by presenting this youth to us in ringlets, worn in "lengths" like a girl's, upon the shoulders? (b) Is the characterization one of kind, or of degree ? (c) What is implied concerning the character of the mother, who permits or ordains such fashions for her son ? Il8 THE PRINCESS [cantO i J Cast no shadow. The evidence of extreme wizardry, and intended by the author to serve to imagination as the measure of it. A man might, however, according to mediaeval notions, part with his shadow without selling his soul, — like Peter Schlemihl, in Chamisso's story of that title. 8-10 Know the shadow from the substance. The characteristic ' high- serious ' manner in which prophecy is cast. Cf -'Bel boweth down, Nebo stoopeth." "Woe to the land shadowing with wings, which is beyond the rivers of Ethiopia, that sendeth ambassadors by the sea, even in vessels of bulrushes upon the waters, saying, Go, ye swift messengers, to a nation scattered and peeled, to a people terrible from their begin- ning hitherto." Cf. p. xlviii. 12 Waking dreams. 'Dreams in waking moments.' Of course the strange affliction was not dreaming, in daylight, with the eyes wide open, nor anything so bad as that. The phrase is said to give us an approximate idea of the unpracticalness of the visions, as in relation to the stern world of facts. The author is evidently not anxious to be specific. He might as well have characterized the "affection" as the Highlander's "second sight"; only of course that would not have re- duced the Prince's responsibility, as is apparently intended, and might have idealized what the need is to degrade. As for the country had in mind, it seems as likely to have been Scotland as North Germany or Scandinavia. The reference to it in 1. 3 as under the Northern star is no doubt general, like sub septentrionibus in Latin. 14 Weird seizures. ' Fits of possession by occult, unearthly powers.' 18 The shadow of a dream. Note how the author has advanced here from the enigmatical terms of the prophecy, through " strange affection " and "weird seizures" to. this climax and outcome of the diagnosis, yet without uncovering the real character of the distemper. That it is any- thing very unpleasurable or bad will not be imagined. Professor Wood- berry happily suggests (pp. 133, 134) that the author invests the Prince here with certain habitudes, or rather gifts, of his own mind. " The thought itself, the shadow-idea, is fundamental in Tennyson; it is per- sistent in all his work, it falls in with his own nature, and it has a basis in his own personality. He relates his experience [11. 229-239] in The Ancient Sage." 1 9 Court -Galen. Chief physician of the kingdom, resident at court for service in the royal family. Galen (a.d. 130-200), a famous physi- 2 (a) Is lived (I.5) a true figure, or mere phrasing? Show why? (b) In what spirit, to what purpose, was the sorcerer's prophecy declared ? (c) Why does the author take the trouble to tell us that the sorcerer foretold thus at dying? (d) Exactly what does this prophecy (11. 8-ic) embody? (e) Why should it be the mother (1. 11) that is referred to and not the father? (/) What is the effect (1. 12) of truly? (g) Does the Prince seem to regard his gift of vision (1, 14) reverently, or otherwise ? Has his mother perhaps inspired in him this feeling, or does it come canto i] A MEDLEY 119 cian of Pergamos, summoned repeatedly to attend the emperors, was the chief authority in medicine till Paracelsus. The dominion exercised by Galen in the complete sphere is made to interpret in the degree way the eminence of this court physician over his fellows in his smaller world. The gilt-head cane helped make up the presence, in old days, of such a medical dignitary. 23 Half -canonized. • Almost adjudged a saint by those who merely saw her face.' 25 A king a king. Cf. III. 136, and note. 27 Pedant 's wand. ' Schoolmaster's rod or ferule.' 33 Proxy -wedded. ' Wedded through the person of a proxy.' Bootless calf. The marriage of Maximilian of Austria with Anne of Brittany, solemnized after this fashion in 1489, is described by Bacon in the History of King Henry VII.: "The King having thus upheld the reputation of Maximilian, advised him now to press on his marriage with Brittaine to a conclusion; which Maximilian accordingly did; and so far forth prevailed both with the young lady and with the prin- cipal persons about her, as the marriage was consummate by proxy with a ceremony at that time in these parts new. For she was not only pub- licly contracted, but stated as a bride, and solemnly bedded, and after she was laid, there came in Maximilian's ambassador with letters of procuration, and in the presence of sundry noble personages, men and women, put his leg (stript naked to the knee) between the espousal sheets, to the end that that ceremony might be thought to amount to a consummation and actual knowledge." — Spedding's Edition, vol. XL, pp. 153, 154. Spedding, in a note to the above, adds the information from some other source ? {Ji) Does the pawing of the beard (1. 20) indi- cate a baffling or a practicable case ? (/) Do you understand that the Prince suffered the suspension of consciousness and muscular rigidity, during the "weird seizures," that catalepsy implies? (J) Develop, in kind and degree, the characterization implied in 11. 25, 26, and 27-30 respectively. 3 (a) At what age approximately, as you infer (1. 31), was the Prince betrothed ? (/>) Do you understand that there was a marriage (11. 32, 33) at some time after the betrothal, or that only a betrothal is alluded to in the double reference? (r) How far will such a marriage be binding upon the Princess? (d) Does the Prince appear to assume (11. 40-42) that he has other than a wooer's rights ? (e) How will any presumption on his part, if the Princess has grown into high-spirited young woman- hood, be likely to please her ? (_/") Some critics think the proxy- wed- ding barbarous and preposterous, and insist that it is useless and mars the poem. Can you find the author's reason for using it? (g) Is it not false to affirm that murmurs reach the court of the Prince's kingdom ? (A) If the home of the Prince is in the North, and of the Princess in the South, what is the propriety (1. 32) in neighboring! (i) Why does the author take the trouble (1. 38) of saying dark tress ? 120 THE PRINCESS [canto 1 that "Anne did not complete her fourteenth year till the 26th of Janu- ary, 1490." 34 Still. 'Continually.' 36 Puissance. An old word, suggesting chivalrous strength of a physical sort, and so well suited to the mediaeval turn that the poem takes in Canto V. 42 Gifts. That is, for the Princess. To fetch her. It is plainly assumed that the chief ceremony, which must of course take place at the home court, is already despatched. Otherwise, this King and his son would have gone in person to the bride's capital. 43 Labor of the loom. Evidently a feminine present, a robe or man- tle; though scarcely intended for the Prince's mother, who (except in V. 398) is not treated or spoken of as living. 46 Compact. That is, between the fathers, or the kingdoms. 48 Maiden fancies. Ideas and tastes that presuppose or necessitate the unmarried condition. Cf Shakespeare's maiden meditation (M. N. D. II. i. 164). 48, 49 Alone among her women. Refused to allow about her the usual court-contingent of gallants and pages. 50 Presence room. Royal audience hall. 54 Other heart. Heart, as a name of the emotional forces, is properly active in meaning. The word is sometimes used passively, as in "dear heart," of the object of one's affections. Heart in the present case is similarly passive. 56 Twinnd. The figure is here evidently not one of kind, since ear and eye cannot be included spiritually in the same genus. The word is used to measure the degree of sympathy between the Prince and his friend : an action or experience of the one was sure to be shared imme- diately by the other. 4 (a) If the Prince is already married to the Princess, why does the author imply that he is yet to wed? (b) Who seems to have moved first in the matter, the Prince, or the Prince's father? (c) Does the King, who takes the gifts, apparently turn them over to his daughter ? Is there any characterization here ? (d) What word in 1. 46 has principal stress ? (e) Does this King mean or not mean (1. 47) that the will of some certain lady is recognized by him beyond the honor of the realm? (/) Will he or will he not apparently speak to her about the matter? (g) What do you infer is the reason of what is told us in the next two lines ? 5 (a) What "morning" (1. 50) is meant? (b) Why two iviths in the next line ? (c) W T hat difference do you discern between starts and bursts as applied to character? (d) Do you understand that moved together means that they shared the same motives, or merely that one never went anywhere without the other? canto i] A MEDLEY 121 58 Troubled. Muscularly tense and ridged by the energy of decision; the face being in visual moments undrawn and smooth. Cf. "troubled pool," "troubled surface of a lake," etc. Note the force of character in- dicated in these dark wrinkles, as in contrast with the flabby effect of Gama's smile (11. 114, 115), below. 59 Inflamed. Flushed, reddened. 60 Snoiv'd. Again we have a figure not spiritually true in kind, but used, with some exaggeration, of degree. The shreds of paper did not float, but like snow flakes fell straight, — so fiercely did he dash them down. 61 Thro' warp and woof. That is, he tore the robe, by a single movement, if we are to believe it, diagonally, through both warp and woof. This, the fabric being new, and curiously woven, was no easy feat, and measures to imagination yet more potently the degree of rage. 64, 65 Then followed a considerable delay, no one addressing him, while he pondered variously how to be revenged. Cooked his spleen. Nursed his rage; spared the energy of fur- ther outbursts, for action. " It has its origin in the sense of carefully watching and keeping warm which is implied in that of cooking. ' Spleen ' has obtained the secondary meaning of anger from the belief of the ancients that the organ so called was the seat of that passion. — Wallace. 66 Captains. "Commanders, generals; as in the Bible." — Cook. 72 Than fame. Supply ' reports her. ' 78 Of three castles. Of three fiefs or counties. 84 In a strait. In case of straits or difficulty. 85 I grate on rusty hinges. ' When I stir here I am but reminded of how long it is since I moved before. ' 87 Maiden fancies. Remembered and echoed, from 1. 48, in deep- est irony. 90 Wild zvoods. This capital being in the North, was closely sur- rounded by fir and birchen forests. 93 Dewy-tasseW d trees. Wallace quotes the explanation of Hallam 6 (a) What was it that the king wrote (1. 60) as distinct from what the ambassadors (1. 57) "spake "? (b) Is there anything significant or ex- plainable in the author's use of the word "ambassadors" here? (c) Does the king seem to have torn the robe more willingly or less will- ingly because it was female gear ? (d) Why is it not some gift proper for the prince ? (e) What does he mean exactly by "bring her in a whirl- wind " ? 7 (a) Why (1. 67) has the Prince waited so long before speaking? (b) Why has not the father consulted the son before determining his course ? (c) Where is the emphasis in let me go ? (d) What means (1. 74) the foreign court ? (e) Why does Cyril (1. 80) say too ? (/) Is the king (1. 85) inclined to precipitancy {cf 1. 62) of resolution ? 122 THE PRINCESS [canto I Tennyson, — "hung with catkins as in the hazel-wood. It was spring- time/' Cf. In Memoriam, LXXXVI. 6. 100, 10 1 The first clause here has probably been thought florid and effeminate by many readers. Perhaps Tennyson would have written it anywhere, but it is right to remember that he is speaking now in the person of a love-sick and not over-manly swain. 107 Threaded spiders. Spiders swung upon the threads of their webs. The young men let themselves down by ropes from the embra- sures. 109 Livelier land. They have of course come {cf. 1. 35) southward, where the vegetation is more forward and ample, and the sun stronger. Tilth. Land under systematic cultivation. Grange. "An outlying farm estate, with special reference to its cluster of buildings." — Woodberry. HO Bosks of wilderness. Wild shrubs growing thickly. Two weeks have passed since the willows at home (1. 93) were in tassel. The wild flowers are just blossoming in this more southern land. Ill Mother-city. ' Metropolis ' of that kingdom. 115 Drove his cheek in lines. Cf. 1. 58 above, aid note. 116 Without a star. Without the usual military decorations marking valiant service, during his crownprinceship period in the field. 118 Ambassadors, according to Northern etiquette, accepted hospital- ity for three days ; on the fourth day they made known their message. Cf. Erithiof's Saga, the editor's translation, V. 71-73. 120 Not as vain of the seal ring, though he is doubtless well pleased with it and it is much in his thoughts; the gesture is indicative rather, while warmly courteous, of mental inertia and vacuity. 121 Ourselves. "Elsewhere in this poem the form used of himself by a king is 'ourself,' as generally in Shakespeare." — Wallace. This editor might have added that the Princess [cf. III. 211) uses the singular form. It is at least unfortunate that the author chooses the plural here. 8 (a) Why are the woods (1. 90) called wild} Is this Tennyson's or the Prince's word ? [b) Do you discern any characterization in 11. 91-93 ? If so, develop it. Is it of kind or of degree ? (c) How might it be fairly insisted that the Princess (1. 94) has broken troth ? (d) How can lips (1. 95) look proud? (e) What can shrieks (11. 97, 98) of the wild woods mean ? (f ) How indeed can we account for what the Prince affirms here in the last four lines ? 9 (a) How should it seem that the king (1. 105) might shout from some bay-window in the town} (b) We note Tennyson makes this city to have had walls: is it apparent why? (c) What is the visualizing effect of (1. ill) mother-city thick zvith towers ? (d) Is not the Prince's capital such? 10 (a) What characterization (1. 113) in cracked and small his voice? (b) Is what the king says (11. 121, 122) about having once been in love canto i] A MEDLEY 12$ 122 Compact. King Gama is cautious again (cf. 1. 46) in touching upon the Princess's responsibility. 126 But. The King's indolent ellipsis here, in his subjective help- lessness, is amusing. ' But all power and influence on my part, in your behalf, have been forestalled.' 128 Fed her theories. 'Gave her ideas that she assimilated as it had been food. ' Out of place. They subordinated even the public fetes to the propagandism of ' woman's rights.' 129 Husbandry . The term seems scarcely of Gama's choosing, hence is likely quoted. Tennyson is not always chivalrously fair to the theo- rists he is opposing. Would these widows have meddled with the word ? *34 Knowledge. Evidently the passive meaning of 'intellectual attainments,' 'erudition'; not 'sapience,' ' wisdom,' which woman in large measure compasses by intuition. 136 Lose the child. Become unconsciously, and as it were natively, self-reliant; be their own masters. Cf. Prol. 133, This supercilious feeling towards "the child," reaffirmed by the Princess (III. 234-237) later on, is vital in the author's treatment of the theme. To satirize this, he makes the babe of Psyche the eventual heroine of the poem. 137 Awful odes. The first fruits of the attempt to outrival masculine accomplishments were sought in literature. The court judgments of their merit (11. 143, 144) of course were flattering. 147 Hard by your father 's frontier. The author places this summer- palace naturally enough in the northmost part of the realm, but chiefly (cf IV. 384) to minimize the military action. 149 All wild to found. A shade less slangy perhaps than the cur- rent ' crazy to do so and so, ' but scarcely to be commended in a poem of such pretensions as this one. But perhaps the responsibility (cf. 11. 100, 10 1, and note) should rest with Gama. 150 On the spur. A degree figure; as of a fleeing horseman keeping his weight so to speak upon his spurs. himself to be taken as burlesque or seriously ? (c) Why did the author make Lady Psyche and Lady Blanche to have been widows, and not maiden aunts ? (d) What (1. 129) does equal husbandry really mean ? (e) Does equal (1. 130) refer to physical as well as mental strength ? (/) Does what is said in 11. 131, 132 indicate or not indicate that there were also male champions of woman's rights ? (g) Is or is not the author descending to burlesque when he says (1. 142) the women sang these odes ? What women sang them ? When, and where ? (h) Is anything implied as to the success of the agitation (1. 145) in at last} (i) What does the king mean (1. 148) by easy man ? (j) W'hat charac- terization (1. 155) in Pardon me saying it} (k) Does or does not the king distinguish between his personal and his official obligations ? (/) Has the Princess inherited, apparently, her father's or her mother's qualities ? 124 THE PRINCESS [canto i 161 Slur. Pass over lightly. The Prince is of course preposterously charitable to use the word. 163, 164 All frets but chafing me. ••All impediments serving only to aggravate my impatience. The metaphor is from ignition by friction — these delays irritated the Prince's heart into a burning excitement." — Wallace. On fire. In the factitive construction; l so as to be on fire.' 170 The liberties. "An English legal term for adjacent privileged territory, here used of the outskirts of the estate within which the exclu- sive rights granted to the Princess were exercised." — Woodberry. 174 Sibilation. A Tennysonian name of the sound produced by drawing in the breath, slowly, in a low whistle. 179 Was he bound to speak. That is, in protest, or information. The hostel-keeper virtually regards himself (cf.\. 186, "liege-lady") as a subject of the Princess. 187 Post. Provide relays of horses for those traveling " post." 188 Boys. Post boys; postilions. 194 High tide of feast. At the height of the festival or entertainment. 195 Masque or pageant, " The masques were especially court sports, and the pageants had a more popular character. Milton's Comus is an example of a masque, and pageants are described in Scott's A'enilworth." • — Woodberry. 201 To guerdon. * To furnish the inducement for'; literally 'rec- ompense. ' 11 (a) Does the king seem (11. 161-163) to be intentionally hoodwink- ing the young men? (b) Do you take it that (1. 169) the gleaming river is a great commercial highway ? (<:) What or where does it seem this kingdom is? (d) Does mine host (1. 171) know who the leader of this trio is ? (e) What do you say of the dignity of a king's son seeking his people's queen in such a way? 12 {a) What is evidently (1. 174, 175) the hostel-keeper's feeling? (b) Has the wine abated it ? (c) How should a man who has never been inside or near the college speak of or know of rules ? (d) What does he think (1. 182) to do? (e) How did the Princess make such an impression (1. 184) upon the man? Was she disdainful? (/) Why does the author now make the host to jest thus coarsely here ? 13 (a) Must it have been or not have been easy to impersonate Goddesses or Nymphs successfully ? Could all young men do this ? (b) Why the singular in these nouns used? (c) Why did the author (1. 3) make the Prince to have had long hair? (d) Could the host pur- chase female gear (1. 196) fit for countesses in a rustic town ? ( or Mercury. ''The idea is that, the more nearly a planet revolved about the sun, the center of all life and light, the purer and finer and nobler [as well as more potent and commanding] might we imagine its inhabitants to be." — Wallace. 18 (a) What is the meter of the Song? (b) Is any effect apparent from the unlike length of the lines ? (c) Is a quarrel generally settled by outside forces? (d) Must such influences be potent or the contrary? (e) Tennyson omitted 11. 6-9 tentatively, in one edition, and some critics think they should have been permanently left out. Do you think so ? Why ? (f) How far is the element of time requisite in such a lyric ? II. 1 (a) Is it distinctively feminine to begin (1. 1) college functions at daylight ? Or is it one of the Princess's reforms ? (5) If this had been a "mixed" college, would or would not the distinctive colors have been in quantity and quality such ? (c) Is there any suggestion of conscious comfort or the opposite in when these were on? (d) Is the formality of announcing (11. 6, 7) due to the Princess or to the supposed rank of the' guests? (e) Why do the boys (11. 8-16) note everything so closely? Have they not seen elegance before ? (/) What, as to mode of life or state of mind, does the leaving of book or lute (1. 16) out over night signify ? (g) Why are there no busts or statues of great men ? 2 (a) What does board (1. 18) suggest as to the appointments of the room ? (b) What is the Princess doing, at this early hour, with tome and paper ? (c) What of the mind that expresses itself (1. 19) in pets of this size ? () Why does she wish (cf. 1. 96) to detain these new-comers ? Do you think she has recognized already (cf. 1. 285) who they are ? (c) Why does not the fal- tering and fluttering take place (11. 166-170) at once? (d) What does the metric construction of the line suggest ? (e) What is Florian's mood (1. 171) in welll (f) What "plot" does she suspect? (g) How much younger (1. 176) is Florian than his sister, or than the Prince? (h) Why is it that Florian cannot (11. 179-182, and 187-192) take his sister 132 THE PRINCESS [canto ii 1 8 1 Sirens. ' ' The appropriateness of this comparison is derived from the fact that it was by their irresistible charm and attractiveness that these enchantresses of Greek Mythology allured men to their doom." — Wallace, 1 88 Grange. Granary, or barn. 189 For warning. To other intruders of the male species. 197 Affiancd. The Prince asserts his right to be here very mildly. Cf I. 31, 32. 204 Vestal limit. Precincts as sacred from profanation as the Ves- tals' in ancient Rome. 207 For. As for. 208 Deadly lurks. Lurkings of death. 209 Garth. Orchard, garden. 214 Will topple to the trumpet down. Will fall, like the walls of Jericho, at the first note of violence. He means that no patrons will recognize it after that. Pass. That is, out of existence. Cf. " passing bell." 223 Sun-shaded. Provided with a shade from the sun. The picture showed the light falling from above, across the brows, and fended, from the eyes, of the Baron, as he stood erect over the prostrate king. The -ed is here the adjective suffix, as in ox-eyed, blue-stockinged, etc. 224 Bestrode. To save from death or capture. Cf. Shakespeare, Com. of Errors V. i. 192, 193 : " When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took deep scars to save thy life ; " and Macbeth IV. iii. 4. 227 Branches. Extends itself in new branches of the family. 229 Morning hills. Hills in the early morning. 230 Raced the purple fly. Tried the speed of butterflies by pursuit. 234, 235 Read down to happy dreams. Allay the nervousness, the excitement of fever by reading me asleep. 241 Sapience. Wisdom. " Scattered," naturally, somewhat reduces the compliment. 245-246 Said in reference to Psyche's declaration in 11. 200, 201. seriously ? (i) Why cannot Psyche see, or feel, the ground (1. 184) of the iest? (J) What (11. 193, 194) is Cyril's motive? (k) How should, how does Psyche regard what he says ? 10 (a) Does Psyche recognize the motive (11. 195-199) with which the Prince now speaks ? (b) What mood is evident (1. 200) in her exclama- tions ? (c) Why does affiandd stir her so? (d) What reason has the author -given the Princess for disliking the Prince? (e) Does Psyche really believe that the Prince's head, or Florian's, will be chopped off? (/) How can the Prince discuss the case with her (11. 207-216) so earnestly ? What of his character as discerned in this ? 11 (a) What is the Prince's impulse now (11. 219-227) ? (b) What, in the lines following, is Florian's ? (c) What, after him, is Cyril's ? 12 (a) What does now (11. 242-249) the Prince instinctively attempt? canto ii J A MEDLEY 1 33 254 SobVd. " Cf. As You Like It, II. i. 66: 'the sobbing deer.'" — Cook. 263" Spartan mother. Who could sacrifice all maternal feeling to the public good. 264 Lucius Junius Brutus. "Brutus, elected consul in B.C. 509, upon the expulsion of the Tarquins, was so determined to maintain the freedom of the infant Republic committed to his charge that, having de- tected his two sons in a conspiracy with other young nobles to restore the banished dynasty, he did not hesitate to order them to execution." — Wallace. 269 Secular. Enduring. through the generations. 274 Fleckless. Without flecks or stains. 276 As you came. Adhering to your disguises. 282 To-and-fro. An adverb phrase, made substantive by the omis- sion of l pacing,' which it should modify. 294 Household talk. Talk concerning members of the household circle. Phrases of the hearth. Domestic allusions. 304 Her mother's color. Cf. 1. 3, above ; and I. 229, 230. 306, 307 Bottom agates ; morning seas. Cf. 1. 229, and note. 316 Elm and vine. Vines, in classic times, were trained to grow for support on elms. Cf. Vergil, Eclogues, II. 70. 319 Dana'id. "The Danaids, daughters or Danaus, king of Argos, having murdered their husbands, sons of yEgyptus, were punished in Hades by condemnation to carry water in sieves. The expression there- fore means 'be found unable to keep your secret.' " — Wallace. (/>) How different (11. 250-258) is Elorian's impulse from before ? (c) What new chord does Cyril (11. 259-261) attempt to strike ? 13 (a) Can Psyche's double a fortiori argument (11. 265-271) be an- swered ? (b) Why does she abandon it ? (c) Is she aware of the in- consistency between her principles and the little yielding ? (d) Can you explain yet (1. 274) ? [e) Can you explain the absurdity of the con- ditions? (/) Why does she not say absolutely to-day? (g) If Florian had not been of the party, would she have ordained differently? (h) Why does she (1. 271) leave Cyril out? (z) Is the explanation (11. 278, 279) creditably veracious ? (J) Can you explain why it is proposed ? 14 (a) Does the Prince imply (1. 280) that they will keep the promise ? Was Psyche sure they would ? (/;) Why does he say What could we else? (c) What prompts (1. 282) the to-and-fro? (d) Why is Psyche sad (1. 286) to see her brother ? (e) How could duty (1. 288) speak, apart from Psyche ? (/) What does Tennyson think he has demon- strated concerning woman's capacity to administer justice ? 15 (a) Why is Psyche so slow (11. 290-292) to embrace her brother? (b) Whose tears (11. 295, 296) began to fall? (c) Is rapt (1. 297) ap- propriate here ? (d) Why did Psyche start (1. 299) backward? (J) Why does Melissa stand with (1. 304) her lips apart ? 134 THE PRINCESS [canto ii 320 Foundation. Institution, establishment. Rain. " This intransitive of the word is not common. We have it again in Lucretius, 40 [Ruining along the illimitable inane]." Wallace. 323 Aspasia. "The most famous intellectual woman of Greece, the friend of Pericles, and the center of the group about him in Athens." — Woodberry. 325 Sheba. " Not the name of % a woman, but of a country. But in all periods of English literature it has been common to assume that Sheba (or Saba, following the Latin) was her own name." — Cook. 338 Affect abstraction. Pose as students wholly absorbed in study. or meditation occasioned by it. Psyche evidently does not regard all appearances hereabout as genuine. 347 Theatres. Lecture-halls, with the seats arranged "crescent- wise " as in large theaters. 353 Lilted out. Hallam Tennyson explains, "declaimed in a femi- nine voice." — Wallace. 354 Violet-hooded. These young men keep away from the lecture- rooms of Psyche's rival. 355 Jewels ^ five-words-long. " Short, immortal phrases, perfect in expression, which are well known; such as are to be found in Shake- speare, Vergil, or other poets." — Woodberry. 356, 357 That Time holds out for the admiration of mankind as he speeds by. 358-363 Note how the author again (cf. Prol. 59-79) .presents scien- tific ideas interpretatively, to avoid prosaic terms. Cf. p. xi. 16 (a) What mood is apparent (1. 309) in Ah — Melissa — yon? (/>) How does Melissa know that these three are men ? (c) Why should she at once, as a matter, of course, turn derelict to her mother, and to the Princess, and to her duty ? (il) What does she at once (1. 323) think of as the most covetable thing ? What has caused this ? (e) What prompts Cyril (11. 329-335) now? (/) Is there evidence that Psyche likes or dislikes this ? (g) Does Cyril know, or sense, that preposter- ous boldness like this displeases, and yet may please ? 17 (a) Does Cyril pet the child (1. 341-345) for its own sake? (b) Why should not Florian have done this ? (c) Why is the child in the mother's lecture room at all ? (d) Had there been pupils of the other sex, would she have brought in the child ? (e) While Psyche attempted to give the disguised culprits to death, was the presence of the child in keeping ? (f) What does Psyche's watching and smiling (1. 344) show ? 18 (a) How early was it apparently when the boys (11. 54-60) ma- triculated ? What time of the day has now arrived ? (b) Why does the Prince say (1. 349) the grave Professor ? (e) Of whose authorship are the scraps (1. 353) of Epic! (d) How far is gorged with knowledge (1. 366) said seriously? (e) What moods now shown by the three friends, and to what is each due? (/) What does Florian (11. 370, 371) really canto n] A MEDLEY 135 078-381 "Cyril's meaning is that up to that time love was unknown within the sacred precincts of the College. He expresses himself in the language of Classical Mythology, and represents the absence of the passion as due to the futile attempts of baby Cupids to wound with headless arrows." — Wallace. 383 Golden-shafted firm. Archers that are associated in the use of golden arrows. For "firm," cf. I. 149, and note. 384 "A reference to the Creek legend of Eros and Psyche, whose mutual attachment seems to signify the necessity of love to the human soul. " — Wallace. 387-389 The Prince is forced to submit to rallying references of this sort continually. Cf. I. 80-83. 388 Malison. "A French form of the Latin derivative malediction, like benison for benediction; used in 'romantic writing.' " — Cook. 391 Substance. Said here of course in double meaning. 394 Three castles. Cf. I. 74-78. Patch my tattered coat. Cf. I. 51, 52. Note the heraldic pun. 398 Zone. Cyril's burlesque phrasing (cf p. liv.) for 'lady's belt.' 399 Unmanri d me. A very successful quibble. 401, 402 "A ringing metaphor from a captive lion, an animal with vehement passions that he cannot indulge." — Wallace. And the effect- iveness of the metaphor consists of course in its bantering, ironic appositeness. 403 Mincing. "Making less by affected nicety and delicacy." — Woodberry. 404 Bassoon. Remarkable for its deep bass tones. 406 Star-sisters answering. Pairs of bright eyes responsive to my glances. 415 Hallam Tennyson comments thus: "The colors of the lilac and daffodil have a splendid effect when placed together in masses." — Wallace. 420 Second-sight. Prophetic anticipation. Astrczan age. i i According to the old legend Astraea, the daugh- ter of Zeus and Themis, lived among men during the Golden Age, and was think of Psyche's lecture, — that it was original? (g) What was the trash (1. 373) and what the kernel ? (h) What wisdom does Cyril mean (1. 374) he got? (i) Can you explain why Cyril speaks in such a vein? (J) Why does Florian allow it? (k) Why does Cyril say (1. 396) sister Psyche? (I) What does he mean to imply (1. 398) in much I might have said? (m) Cannot Cyril see anything serious (11. 399-401) in the work of the college? (n) What does he mean (1. 401) in / thought to roar} (0) Why (1. 405) abase his eyes ? (/) What is significant (1. 410) in but, — or what goes with it? 19 (a) Where do these students (1. 411), in Cambridge parlance, now 136 7 HE ?F:'?:CESS [cam the last of the deities to leave when that passed ^ was believed moreover that she would be the first to re-establish her home on earth should the Gold-: urn. There is a famous reference to this theory in VergiL and it reappears in many English poets — Milton, Pope, and notably in the tide of Dryden's ode in celebration of the Res- torat: — lace. 425 Faded form. Presumably here a figurative way of . 126 Falsely brox Kept brown by dyeing. _ j 3 Shallop. A smalL bight boat 443 faces covered as much as practicable, obedient - to Psyche's bidding. white. They had donned white surplices before c iv.ir.j : ...:.z -_-".. 449 Two streams of light. Perhaps from windows, back of the altar, I x the su: ^.52 Melodious thunder. Tennyson elsewhere {In Jfemoriam. KVIL 5-8) attempts to develop this meaning more completely. 453 Silver litanies. The song portions, apparently, of some litur- gical office. Silver is said of the quality of these voices, being sopranos and altos only. j: 5 _t The work of Ida. At least the Prayer-book. It is to be hoped that Ida's ecclesiastics ventured no disappr. mainly at this time ? (c) What are your impressions 425 _:o) coo-, cerning Lady Blanche r ige What characterizati" I here? 20 What sort of a student is this who walks (L 430) reciting by her- ■vho reads and pets the peacock (U. 431 same time ? What means read here ? [c) What is the age of those play- ing (11. 435-437 "all and hide and seek? (d) Why are not the others more careful about being heard ? Is this overdraw:, should the young men sit closely muffled at such moments ? Why Cyril heard from ? (/) Why does Mel: ssa 444) come ? i^)What court (L 451) is referred to ? (h) At what point in the day are chapel services at Cambridge held ? (i) What is the effect on your feelings, about :..: : :'.'.-: r~ vr:.:.Lrr. ::. :..t list :e: lir.rs ? 21 What should the rhythm of a cradle song be imitated from or : - remarkable about the meter in the third line of this soDg ? (c) Is there or is there not the suggestion (11. 1 : ^.atthe s thoughts are now upon his child ? (d) Which is the most potent, :lt .Ti:t ;_'_•. :i. :.--.z ----- ::. :.. . ... .- :-~i.y : canto in] A MEDLEY 1 37 CANTO III. I Now the third of the seven speakers takes up the story. White wake. Venus, on account of the small diameter of her orbit, seems always tu follow or precede the sun. The sun now comes on. as in the silver wake of a vanished vessel, breaking the sky into ridges or wavelets of molten gold. 4 Three parts. The lower three fourths of the columns are yet shaded. 5 Were touched. With the ringers of the Dawn. The author seems to have Homer's 'pododocKrului 'Hal-. • Rosy-lingered Dawn.' at the bottom of his thought. 9 Watt. Paleness. II Iris. Of course, a somewhat exaggerated figure of degree, like "glowing." in 1. io. There was the vivid suggestion of blended color, as in the upper bands of the rainbow. "Circled' - is said because the ■ Iris ' is inverted, the arc is become a full circumference. 1 8 Head. •• The technical term for the Master or Principal of a College."' — Wall 26 Wild barbarians. One would think "wild" unnecessary here, with such a precisian as the Lady Blanche. "Barbarians." -barba- rous,' seem ready words, in the parlance of this college, and used as readily of women as of men. Cf. II. 27S: IV. 516. 34 Set in rubric. Print or publish in red; said pedantically as of old printing, which set certain words or initial letters for prominence in thatcolor. III. 1 (a) Do the first two lines here show, as their major quality, more of the sublime or of the beautiful ? Why ? (b) Why should the three young men again wake and rise so early? (<-) Since the boys are to don but the college gowns of yesterday, what need that they be (1. 3) each by other dress' d with care? (d) Why does the author personify in the last two lines? (e) What pictures, in consequence, do you see? 2 (a) How can the young men seem (1. S)'to watch, but not be sure about it? (b) What are they waiting for? (c) Has Melissa apparently shrunk from coming to these young men? Why? (d) Why did she not go instead to Psyche ? (e) What aroused Blanche, last night, to can- vass the new-comers ? (/') If they had been petite, graceful creatures, what would she have said? (g) What means (1. 3i)_/f.v? (A) What is the point and inspiration of (1. 32) Blanche's irony ? (/) What are the thoughts (1. 34) she is pleased to attribute to her daughter? (/) Do you think this divining of the truth by Blanche improbable ? Why ? (h) Why does Melissa care for the pardon of these fellows ? Where are her sympathies, and why ? 138 THE PRINCESS [canto in 44 Clutch* d. As a miser would grasp a new-found treasure. 52 Those lilies. That paleness. 54 Classic angel. Girl poet, within the college, who affects classic figures and allusions! Cyril will have it that all the literature of the college is of this quality. 55 Ganymedes. The Trojan youth Ganymede was borne aloft to Olvmpus by Jove's eagle, and made cup-bearer to the gods, in Hebe's stead. Cf. Vergil, JEneid I. 28. 56 Vulcans. "Vulcan, the god of metal-working, was the son of Juno. Zeus hurled him from heaven; he fell on Lemnos. and was lame ever after. He made armor for the gods and heroes in his workshop in Mount .Etna." — Woodberry. 57 This marble. Lady Blanche's heartless and unimpressionable state of mind. '"In like manner 'wax' denotes impressibility. Cf. Shakespeare. The Rape of Lucrece, 1240 : 'For men have marble, women waxen minds.' " — Wallace. 59 Curls. It was the fashion for women to wear curls, at the time this poem was composed. 61 Right and left. " Cf. 1. 19. Cf. these terms as used in legislative assemblies." — Cook. 62, 63 Poetic, for ' since long ago division has been smouldering.' 64 Two reasons: jealousy; a petulant disposition. 68 Still. The Elizabethan meaning. Cf. I. 34. 73 Inosculated. "Blent together into one. The word is generally used in special derivative application to the case of veins and other vessels that have been made to run into one another, but here there is no doubt a closer reference to the etymology of the word, which is de- rived from the Latin oscular, 'to kiss,' and thus signifies primarily unity through affection. " — Wallace. 74 Consonant chords. Strings tuned in unison. Shiver to one note. Vibrate when the same note is struck on another instrument. " Shiver " is here ' to vibrate in aroused emotion '; a degree figure. 77 With them. As baits, in sheerest hypocrisy. 80 As flies the shadow. An extreme degree figure. 3 (a) Why will Cyril have it that it must be a classic (1. 541 angel ? (b) Why should Cyril not consult the Prince about the step he takes ? (c) What is the reason that he wants ''further furlough " ? 4 (a) Why does Melissa stay ? {/>) Why does the author make Florian ask this question ? (Y) Does she or does she not suppose that Psyche's defection saves her from responsibilities of her own ? Can you explain ? (d) How can she grow so confidential (11. 63-68), at such cost, with these young men? () How far does he understand (1. 86) the Princess? (r) How far has Psyche (1. 87), in spite of her brother's present judgment, done her own thinking ? 6 (a) Whom does the Prince (1. 88) refer to as chattering of the crane? (/>) Whom as murmuring of the dove? (c) How far is the Prince, in his judgment of the Princess (1. 94), correct? (d) What larger reason — if the Prince could read her as we ? (e) Whom respect- ively does he refer to (1. 96) in her and her ? (/) Is there anything of the mock-heroic in the last comparisons, or not ? 7 (a) What mood, or speed of walk, is suggested (1. 101) by gained? (b) What mood is indicated (1. 108) in yawning — or is it character? (c) How far is Cyril interested in what he has accomplished? (d) Do you 140 THE PRINCESS [canto ill '120 Fabled nothing fair. Told no false stories to smooth matters over. 121 Your example. Cf. II. 195—199. 122 ''In her amazement the Lacly Blanche threw up her hands (a sign of helplessness), and her eyes (an attitude of appeal to Heaven)." — Wallace. 124 Astray. An exquisitely effectual word for 'irrelevantly.' 126 Limed. Caught, like birds that alight on boughs smeared over with bird-lime. 130 Puddled. Made muddy, befouled. 136 Duty duty. Cf. I. 25. The effectiveness of such expressions seems due to the use of the repeated word in its completest generic sense, while the former noun carries but the involved individual applica- tion of the term. Thus "my father thought a king a king" means ' my father held that a king, no matter if the least worthy and sufficient of his sort, must insist on all that kingship typically stands for.' Lady Blanche's formula is a very elastic and convenient one for the present case. 147 Head and heart. Here she is neither; for, if Ida is the head, Psyche is as surely the heart. Cf 1. 23, above. 148 Broadening. Tike a river towards the sea. 154 Dip. Slant to the horizon. 158 Pan up his furrowy forks. Hallam Tennyson says, "shot up its two peaks. " — Wallace. 159 Platans. Plane-trees. 160 Pled on. The hours seem, now, to the Prince to have wings. 173 Were and mere not. Gave both the experiences of being actual, and of illusory. 175-178 The Princess nowhere arouses in the Prince the virile im- think he understands women ? Explain, (e) Why do you think Cyril began (1. 118) by affecting maiden-meekness? (/") Do you consider his frankness (1. 121) tactful? Why? (g) Is there suggestion (1. 139) of real discipline in patience? (//) Why did not Cyril say (1. 141) third place, as he knew was true ? (/) Does not Blanche realize that Cyril cares nothing for her or her cause ? How can she listen to him ? (/) Can you see what Cyril has been put into the poem for ? 8 (a) Does the Princess invite all the new arrivals (11. 153, 154) appar- ently for this excursion ? (a) Why should she, the Head, play ad- vocate (11. 155-157) to these humble freshmen? (c) Why should the tone be so changed from (II. 28-52, 60-84) the one which so palpably pervades the first interview? (d) Who is meant (1. 157) by she} 9 (a) Why did the day (1. 160) now flee? (6) Is there any assignable reason why the weird seizure (1. 167) should come now? (c) How far is what the Prince sees, according to his statement (11. 169-171), the truer view ? canto in] A MEDLEY I4 1 pulse of conquest, but merely the effeminate one of winning her by sub- mission. 179 Retinue. Accented as in Milton and Shakespeare. 186 The tiling you say. " Too harsh." 194 The Prince later (IV. 75-98) ventures to tell considerably more of this experience. 206 Our meaning here. The purpose and mission of her sex. 208 Even. Equally high. 210 The reason for the proxy-wedding, as furnishing the Princess with a motive, becomes clearer. 212 Vashti. Queen of Ahasuerus. Cf. Esther, Chap. I. 215 Breathes full East. "For the metaphor — which may have been suggested by the preceding reference to a proud and defiant Oriental queen, but which is derived from the bitter and blasting character of the east wind in England — cf. Aud'ley Court, 51-53." — Wallace. 2l8 Gray. Hoary, ancient. 225 Might I dread. May I entertain the fear ? 230 A worse word than "barbarian " {cf. 1. 26) is necessary now. 10 (a) How does it chance (1. 181) that the Princess and the Prince ride thus together ? (b) Is it or is it not natural that a college president should, under such circumstances, lead the conversation ? () Does it argue a gradual, organic cul- ture, or a cram? (c) How does Cyril's pedantic talk (cf. Ill, 55-58; 110-113) seem different or- similar? (c) Why does the author now first make the Prince (1. 3) say Ida ? Can you explain why the Princess should lean upon her companion or lend her hand (11. 8, 9) for support? (d) Does the Princess believe after all in the empty attentions of an es- cort? (e) Is she much less in strength or stature than the Prince ? (/) Can you understand, then, why the Prince (11. 10, 11) was stirred? 2 (a) Is there any incongruity between the magnificence of this tent and its furnishings (11. 13-15), and the professed object of the trip ? (/;) If the Prince and his companions had not been of the party, do you think the Princess would have had her gold plate brought? (c) Wliat in the Prologue may be said to prepare for this picnicking, and the sumptuous- ness of it ? 3 (a) What means (1. 20) of those beside her ? Is this her professor of music ? (b) Is smote (1. 20) a warranted figure, or mere phrasing ? () Can you explain how the Prince could venture upon it ? canto ivj A MEDLEY 147 continuous progress and ultimate perfectibility of the human state." — Wallace. 100 Ithacensian suitors. Wooers, of Penelope, from Ithaca. When Odysseus at last returned from his wanderings, he found his home full of suitors, whom his wife had put off by the device of the unfinished web. Cf. Odyssey, XX. 229-349. 101 Laughed with alien lips. Laughed with an unnatural expression about the mouth. " The suitors at the court of Penelope feel the occult influence of the unseen goddess, Pallas, causing their thoughts to wan- der. They fail to recognize Ulysses in his disguise, and their laughter is constrained and unnatural, they know not why. ' They laughed with other men sfaios ' (oi 6" ?}d?/ yva&/ioicri yeXoioov aA-Xorpiuicrn)." — Dawson. 104 Bulbul. The Persian name of the Nightingale, which, in the poetry of that country, is represented as enamored of the rose, and woo- ing it ever in his song. Cf. I. 217. and note. Git /is tan. "Persian for rose-garden." — Dawson. 105 Marsh-divers. The water-rail. 106 Meadow-crake. The corn-crake, or land rail. 107 (irate her harsh kindred. Salute you as of her kindred by her grating call. Kindred is here an "accusative of kindred meaning." IIO Made bricks in Egypt. Were the unresisting slaves of most un- reasonable taskmasters. 117 Of canzonets and serenades. Indicative of his resources; not modes of roguery. "Canzonets" are light songs, such as sung to the lute in the South. " Serenades " is apparently ' serenading ' here. 119 The muse. Not here Euterpe or Erato, but 'the Divinity of Music' or 'of Song'; the more modern personification. "Blaspheme" contributes thus its theologic suggestiveness and power. 121 Valkyrian hymns. Alliterative verses, like those of the Elder Edda. The Princess affects Northern rather than Southern poetry. "Valkyrs" are the stalwart battle maidens of Norse mythology. They determine who shall fall in strife, and conduct the souls of the slain to Valhall, the heroes' heaven. 122 "Such as Miriam's in the Scriptures. Exodus XV. 20."- — ■ Woodberry. 123 Is duer unto. Is more the prerogative of; rather deserved by. 6 (a) How far does the author mean (11. 99-102) that the ladies are trying to keep from laughing incivilly ? (b) Why is not the Princess incensed or at least impatient at the song ? (c) Does she perhaps divine (cf. III. 194, 195) what underlies it? ((/) How must the attentions or at least the charity of the Princess towards this sole student have seemed to "those about her" and the rest? () What does the author mean (1. 138) by sense of sport} (c) What did Florian mean (1. 141) by nodding? (d) Is Psyche's feeling (1. 142) mainly fear ? ( 358 Fear stared. Fear, having taken possession of her mind, stared from her eyes. But it is not possible to translate these degree metaphors; they must be spiritually discerned. 358> 359- Wingd her transit. Gave to her passage the effect of wings. 364 And bosom. Cf. I. 270, and note. 366, 367 The rick flames. " Suggested by the disturbances in Eng- land, ' more than half a hundred years ago, in rick-fire days,' when the peasants burned the hay-ricks, and Tennyson himself took a part {cf To Mary Boyle, vii.-xi.)." — Woodberry, 377 As who. As one. 385 Cf. I. 147, and note. 390 Contract. The Prince's father here uses a strong word, and by "your" makes the Princess herself responsible; as indeed, since she has not disclaimed but merely ignored the proxy-marriage, she really is. 16 (a) Why should the Princess answer (1. 340) coldly ? (b) What, from good, is evidently her feeling? (e) Is it due to a complete under- standing of Blanche's character? (d) Is her manner (1. 341) of sen- tencing Blanche judicial and noble ? () Is it a fair proportion ? (e) Can you definitely imagine the scene ? (d) Why did these coarse women (1. 534) laugh, and laugh grimly ? (e) Have the women of the poem generally succeeded in dissociating the personal wholly from the official ? Why ? [f) How has the author saved the Princess from the self-imposed obligation to put the Prince to death ? 28 (a) Why does the author (11. 537, 538) interpose a weird seizure between the Princess and the army ? (/') What good, besides, of saying 11. 543-545 ? 29 (a) Do you think the Prince has second-sight grounds for (1. 547) his cloud of melancholy ? (b) In a poem like this, as in a drama, the end should be prefigured in the middle portion. Do you feel assured from this Canto what the outcome of the whole will be ? (a) Why perhaps is Lilia moved (1. 9) to sing this rather than any other song? (b) Who is inspired more by man's strength and exploits, his own sex, or woman's? (c) What makes Lilia, apparently, cry now (1. 14) for war? (d) W r hat is now the Princess's only hope? (e) On which side do you think Lilia's sympathies are ? (_/) On which are yours ? 156 THE PRINCESS [canto CANTO V. 2 Stationary. From the Latin stattonarius, 'sentinel'; used as an adjective, as in "sentinel pace," "sentinel caution." Voice is 'chal- lenge.' 4 Second two. Cyril and Psyche have passed this same guard. 5 Wakes. Is not in bed. 6 Glimmering. The long line of tents showed dimly white in the dark- ness, as the torchlight flickeringly reachet them. 7 Threading. Cf. IV. 242, and note. 8 Drowsy. Passive in meaning; 'half-asleep,' ' behaving drowsily.' 9 Lions. Tennyson almost makes this a British camp. Imperial tent. Tent of the commander. 10 Of war. Not 'about war' {cf. II. 203, " love-whispers "), but gen. subjective, 'that war utters.' 14 Hissing. Whispering excitedly. 16 Etiquette. And especially the respect due to the King's son. But the King takes no exception. 18 Their baldness. "Their bald heads; formed in sportive analogy from such expressions as 'Their Highnesses.' " — Wallace. 21 Slain. Felled dead, as it were ; struck prostrate. Gilded squire. "Gorgeously dressed youth, not yet a knight." — Cook. 25 Mawkin. Diminutive of Mall (Moll); a low farm menial. 26 Sludge. Mire. 28 From. Just from. 31 Whisper d. So carelessly loud as to be overheard by the King. 37 Transient. Changing. 1 (a) Whom is the sentinel (11. 3, 4) on the lookout for? (b) Is the man who escorts (1. 5) the Prince a common soldier? Is he escort or guide? (c) What approximately is now the hour? (d) Why is not the father of the Prince asleep ? 2 (a) What gathering does the Prince find in the imperial tent ? (b) Do or do not these think that the Prince has been released to them on account of the King's demand ? (r) How far is this unjust to the Princess ? (d) What is the effect on us of seeing (1. 17) the two kings laugh together? () Do you imagine Psyche thinks (11. 101, 102) to arouse Cyril to aid her ? Are there not reasons why she would not and should not say what here we find ? 8 (a) Why apparently has not (1. no) King Gama gone? {(>) How can Gama bring about the fulfillment of the compact ? 9 (a) How different now (11. 116, 117) is Gama's courtesy from that (I. 1 19-126) first shown ? (b) What in Gama's notion should have ex- 158 THE PRINCESS [canto v tified with, the moral distorting medium through which he fears the Princess will thenceforth regard him. The intervention of smoke or mist between the eye and the object regarded causes the latter to appear blurred and its size magnified." — Wallace. 125 Lightens scorn. From her eyes. 132 Shards. Fragments, properly, of earthenware; a degree figure. Catapults. Stone-hurling engines. 136 Book of scorn. The tame as (1. 137) "record of wrongs." 140 Iron hills. "As though in his own home, to which he had re- tired, to die forgotten, the very scenery itself was of iron." — Wallace. The War-God here is not Mars, or Thor, but a new personification. 142 Bulk* din ice. "The species has been long extinct, but perfect specimens, hair and all, have been brought back to human sight after the lapse of centuries by the melting of ice-banks in Siberia." — Wallace. 146 That idot legend. Cf. I. 5. 152 No rose. No feminine or effeminate thing. 157 Dash 'd with death. Bloody from the slain. 162 Cherry net. Such as drawn down over cherry trees to keep birds from the fruit. 166, 167 "What element of cowardice is in Ida that should cause her to value courage in others ? * — Wallace. 168 In extremes. With violence. 170 Gagelike to man. In the manner of a gage, to all my sex. 172 Clash. Perhaps 'crush as with gauntlets.' Cf. I. 87, 88. 178 "As the pure moon shines on beauty and filth alike, making the former still more beautiful, and investing the latter with a charm it does not of itself possess." — Wallace. 179 Clown and satyr. Weak in intelligence and bestial. 180 More breadth of culture. That they may discriminate. 186 Minted. Moulded in ideal shape. *95 Mooted. Called in question. tinguished the Prince's affection? (c) Why should Gama, after the Prince's father has (1. 115) been so absolute, appeal from him to his son? 10 («) What do you think, if the Prince wished to give up the Princess, his father would do? (6) What means (11. 135, 136) turn the book of scorn? (c) What is your judgment as to the strength and artistic ex- cellence of this paragraph ? 11 (a) Why does the author, in a poem of opposite purpose, admit such doctrine as (11. 144-150) the Prince's father now affirms? (b) What, from the feminine favor accorded to a recent hero, might be urged as proof of the foregoing by the unchivalrous ? (c) What is the proper answer to such men ? 12 (a) What substance in the Prince's notion (11. 166-171) of Ida's in- trepidity ? (b) Is the Prince's summary of man (1. 191) in your opinion Tennyson's ? canto vj A MEDLEY 1 59 196 Of Nature. ' That Nature makes her due,' apparently; not gen. objective. 211 Goblins. " Elves that visit the household, sometimes mischievous, but not of bad nature, as in Milton's L. Allegro, 1. 105." — Woodberry. 213 Buss'd. Kissed. 220 Our late guests. Cyril and Florian. Cf. I. 1 1 7. 222 Foursquare. "This expression, denoting the best conformation for sturdy resistance, is used again in the Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington, 1. 39."— Wallace. 227 0/ spring. Of, or formed by, the years, one ring of growth each year. 229 Valentines. Love-songs. 234 Night and peace. The still night. Cf. Prol. 93, and note. 239 To greet the king. On his return from capture. 246 Thews of men. ' Such men, all muscle. ' 247, 248 In all his movements was the presence of his sister. 250 Airy Giant's zone. Belt of Orion. 251 By the frosty dark. By the darkness when it is frosty, — in the winter months. 252, 253 " Sirius is the Greek name for the Dog-Star, the brightest in the heavens, which when low down assumes a great variety of color." — Wallace. Bickers. Flickers. 254 Washed with morning. Shine with the sun's rays upon the polished metal moist with dew. 262, 263 ' Ere the laugh had got to the bottom of his lungs.' 266 ' Sdeath. God's death, a mediaeval oath; put by the author into Arac's mouth, since he could not of course be suffered to swear, in our hearing, in modern fashion. 269 Troth. Betrothal; that is, the obligation of it. 271 A fair sample of the "high seriousness " of Arac's talk. 280 And this is the last and chiefest prop of Ida's commonwealth. 13 (a) What said by the Prince does Gama (1. 203) apparently refer to in kindlier ? (b) What of Gama's feeling about the detention, and the invasion ? Will his people agree with him ? 14 (a) Why should the King (1. 223) be uncivil at parting ? 15 (a) What is there in common between Gama (11. 229-231) and the Prince ? (b) What suggestion, in the size (1. 246) of the brothers, and of Ida, as to their mother ? (c) Is Gama of large proportions ? 16 {a) Why should the Prince (11. 256-258), against his will and judgment (11. 196, 197) earlier, desire now to fight? {b) Why do not the brothers (1. 261) think of the indignity to their sister ? 17 (a) Why does not the author make Arac's profanity (11. 266, 268, 276, etc.) more marked? (b) What is the characterization herein? c) What characterizing further in his interpretation, as in 1. 271, of his ister ? (<:/) And what also in 11. 280-285 ? {e) What characterizing too l6o THE PRINCESS .[canto v 284 Her. " St. Catherine of Alexandria, an almost, if not wholly, mythical personage. She is said to have lived about the beginning of the fourth century. She was remarkable for her learning and culture, which have won for her the title of the Patron Saint of Philosophy, and especially of ladies of high birth who pursue this study. According to the commonly received legend, the Emperor Maxentius (or, as some say, Maximin) sent the fifty wisest men of his court to convert her from Christianity, but she confuted them all with her own weapons of schol- arly rhetoric, and won them over to her faith." — Wallace. 293 Making apparently a well-known insulting movement. This, and the accompanying language, are intended to place the responsibility for the fighting on the Princess's side. 299 Idle. With nothing to do but defend their " honor." Cowards to their shame. Moral cowards, to their eventual regret. 304 For his king. On account of his king's capture. 316 Missive. Apparently 'message,' though 'messenger' is implied. 317 By the word. Of her reply. 324 Flush. "Fill full, with also the second meaning, stain red." — Woodberry. 346 Bearded lords. Cf. 1. 20. 347 Reasons front age and state. The chances, with his years, would be against him. Evidently the barons of this king's council dread the succession of his son. 351 Field. Of the proposed tourneying. 355 Bronze valves. Not of course the gates of IV. 182, which appear to have been postern. of the Princess here? (f) What is to be said of the reasonableness (11. 286-288) of Arac's position ? (,;<) What is the real foundation of Ida's commonwealth of " knowledge " and culture ? 18 (a) What evidently do the brothers wish ? {/>) What purpose does Cyril's nature (1. 297) now serve? (c) What makes the Prince so eager (1. 300) to attempt champions greatly superior to his two friends and himself? Does he derive such quality from his mother? 19 (a) What does the author (1. 305) propose to evolve now ? 20 (a) What is the motive (1. 315, 316) that controls the Princess's brothers ? (b) Is it their sister's cause ? 21 ( 47^ Land of echoes. Cf. the song after Canto III. 478 Bare on. Carried forward. 486 Drew. Their swords; their lances being lost. 488 Two bulks. The other brothers of Ida. Cf. I. 152, 153. 491 Mellay. Battle in confusion, after the ranks are broken. 498 Ladies 1 eyes. Gazing girls. 500 yacl. Who drove a spike through the temples of Sisera, and delivered the Jews. Cf Judges IV. 18-24. 507, 508 A Prince, and Cyril one. Of course the twin brothers of the Princess. Cf. VII. 74. For the whole description here cf. Chaucer's tournament, Knight's Tale, 11. 1742-1763. 524 Sinew-corded. "The more commonplace phrase would have been 'cord-sinewed,' — 'furnished with sinews as strong and hard as cords ' ; as it stands, the expression, by inverting the form of the compari- son, represents Cyril's muscular excellence even more vigorously, being ment to our conception of his character are we forced now (cf. 1. 451) to make ? (d) How do you account for his change of feeling ? How far is this king used as a foil to the Princess ? 27 (a) What artistic good of having (1. 466) the weird affection come ? (b) Do you find much shock in passing now from 19th century domes- tic theories to mediaeval tilting ? (c) Does the vigor of the descrip- tion help or not help, with us, the unreasonableness of the episode ? (d) What should be the Prince's feeling (11. 505, 506) when he sees Ida truculent, inexorable ? (e) What does he think will be the effect on her of seeing him fall? (f) What is Arac's feeling as shown (1. 510) in agrinl What does he intend? (g) Can you tell more definitely (11. 526, 527) what the paroxysm of the Prince really was ? (h) What means exactly (1. 528), hung} (i) Did Arac mean or not mean to re- spect (1. 397) his sister's wish ? (j) What do dream and truth (1. 530) respectively stand for ? 1 64 THE PRINCESS [canto vi susceptible of paraphrase thus: — furnished as it were with cords by vir- tue of his sinews." — Wallace. 530 A feather. The plume of Arac's helmet. CANTO VI. I Had never died or lived again. Either did not stop, or began again after consciousness. "Or" is sometimes taken carelessly for nor; note the difference of meaning. A comma after "died" would assist the reading. Another of the seven heroes, "like shadows in a dream" [Prol. 221, 222), begins here to speak. 13 For Agla'ia. Now lost, as she thinks, permanently. Cf. V. 101-103. 16 Great dame of Lapidoth. Deborah, the Hebrew prophetess, who instigated the revolt against Sisera, and celebrated the triumph of Barak and Jael [fudges V.). Cf. V. 500, and note. 28 (a) Why should not the young mother weep (11. 5-7) when her warrior is praised " soft and low " ? (b) Why should a woman of ninety years know better how to arouse weeping than those more constantly about their mistress ? (c) What is the point of the whole lyric ? (d) Why is a child again and still the theme ? (e) Do you find anything here that explains (11. 76, 77) Cyril's exhortation to Psyche, above ? (/) How did Cyril know? VI. 1 (a) Why does the author add here the last two lines ? (/>) Is the ef- fect of the paragraph clear-cut and vivid ? (c) Can you show how Ten- nyson makes the passage potential in the way we find ? (d) Can you mention any poem of the author's similar ? (e) What exactly does the first line mean ? (_/") What is the peculiar effect, as in 1. 4. of monosylla- bles ? 2 (a) Why could not the author have contrived (1. 6) better means of letting us know what happened ? (0) Who set up (1. 9) the great cry ? (c) What would have been more natural for the King (1. 10), consider- ing the dignity of his state, to do? (d) What do you say of the meas- ure (1. 12) of his grief as indicated to us in grovch d~> [d) Why was not Psyche (1. 13) sorry for the Prince ? 3 (a) Why does not Ida come down at once excitedly from the roofs ? (6) Why indeed is she not present, under the ladies' canopy, at the tourna- ment itself ? (c) How does it chance that, even in this repose and dig- nity, she keeps the child ? 4 (a) What was the seed (1. 17) laughed at in the dark ? (b) What is, in her conception, now the tree ? (c) Why (1. 21) rushes ? (d) What is the peculiar effect of five-line groups like these ? (e) Have we had such be-? fore? canto VI j A MEDLEY 165 21 To the sun. To an extraordinary height. 25 Red cross. Sign made by the forester, for his woodmen, that the tree is to be no longer spared. 38 Night of Summer. A night of shade from the midsummer sun; that is, her enterprise when fully matured. 40 Fangs. "There is an obsolete sense of fang, as ' prong of a di- vided root.' " — Cook. 47 Blanch? d. ''As the Latin albus was sometimes used. Cf. Scott, Guy Mannering : ' The dominie reckoned this as one of the white days of his year.' " — Rolfe. 49 Of Spring. Of the presence, the manifestations of spring : every leaf and sprig and blade will be plucked. 50 Rain an April. 'Strew delugingly.' "April is in England the most showery of the months." — Wallace. The Princess seems to have caught Tennyson's craze for degree figures. 51 The three. The Princess cannot as yet recognize the services of the others (cf. 1. 74), though some are sorely hurt. 53 Mankind. Man kind ; borrowed perhaps from Shakespeare. Cf "mankind witch" (W. T. II. iii. 67). 59 Burst. ' Caused to be opened hastily.' Another degree figure. 61 Cozvl'd. With their hoods on. 63 Cf III. 59, and note. 65 Isles of light. " Spots of sunshine coming through the leaves, and seeming to slide from one to the other, as the procession of girls ' moves under shade.'" (Tennyson's letter to Dawson : p. xiv of the latter's work.) 5 (a) Why does the Princess think (1. 22), yet, the three enemies came ? (0) What songs (1. 24) did they hear ? 6 (a) Can you trace the allegory in 11. 28-31 ? (p) In what sense (1. 31) is men used ? 7 (a) What is meant (1. 34) by the iron nature in the grain ? (b) How is it appropriate to say (11. 33, 36) they hurt themselves, shattered their arm-bones, with their own blows ? 8 (a) Is night of summer (1. 38) a kind-figure ? (b) Who are to be sheltered by this shade, and from what heat ? (c) Do men covet (1. 39) the fruits of power more than women ? (d) Why, in her thought (I. 41), shall not the stars escape being hit ? (e) Why does the Princess think it well (1. 42) to move even the stony bases of the world ? 9 (a) What means (1. 48) the golden year ? (b) Does the Princess mean (11. 50, 51) that the statues of "the three" shall be admitted to her sacred gallery of female worthies for mere brutish strength and worth ? (c) What is her idea (1. 52) of being liberal! 10 {a) Why does the Princess forget (1. 58) to leave the babe? (b) Why are there but (1. 60) a hundred maids, in train ? Where are the rest ? (c) Why does Blanche (1. 66) follow ? (a) Do you think the com- 1 66 THE PRINCESS [canto vi 69 Timorously. "A single foot only, the resolution of which into four short syllables that must be hurriedly pronounced indicates the ti- midity and nervousness with which the girls approach the ghastly scene." — Wallace. JO Fretwork. A rather remarkable figure of degree. 81 By this. What she has been doing. 82 Pass'd my way. Came towards where I lay. 83 Whelpless eye. Revealing, by its expression of fury, the loss sus- tained. 90 Tortur d. In the Latin sense of torqueo. The modern sense seems hardly to be added, on account of the phrase preceding. 94 From my neck. From the cord or chain attaching them to the neck. Cf. I. 37, 38. 101 Of Fancy. Of his romantic affection, that prompted the dis- guises, and the visit ; gen. subjective, or of the source. 104 She bow'd. She no longer stood erect with self-assertion. 110 Clog of thanks. Of thanks due, of obligation. 111 Such vital aid has been rendered, not only to herself by the Prince, but to her cause by the fifty knights, that Ida feels her future — unless some liquidation can be made — hopelessly in pledge to man. 118 Brede. Embroidery. The child was brought (IV. 266-268) to the Princess in night-clothing, to be (IV. 219) thrown out of doors. It has gold-lace garments now. 122 Falling. " Fat little. The 'ling' has a sort of diminutive, en- dearing sense." — Wallace. 129 Hollow watch. Sleeplessness, that makes hollow looks. Blooming. Of bright lilac color. 130 Red grief . Grief shown by redness of the eyes. parison of Ida (1. 69) with the masculine leader of a herd a serious one ? () What has the father done (1. 88) to dabble his beard with blood ? (c) What is the pain (I. 89) she feels ? Has she not at all realized what this victory has cost ? (d) Why should the King, and with such patience, hitherto intolerant of sentiment, now hold up the tress and portrait ? (e) What plainly is the feeling with which she has said 1. 92 to herself? (f) Was her mother (1. 98), after all, like the mother of the Prince? (g) What exactly is meant by 1. 102 ? (h) What, as different from this, by 1. 103 ? (/') What has made her forget the child ? (/) What is the literal prose equivalence (1. 105) of feeling finger ? Why not a hand} (k) How far does the motive (11. 107-109) that prompts her request spring from a sense of obligation ? 12 (a) What means exactly (1. 113) re-father dl (b) To what degree are now Ida and the Prince's father (1. 114) foes? (c) Why does not Psyche (11. 116, 117) come up at once and boldly? Has she not the right? (d) Why does not Psyche now, in answer to its appeal, take up canto vi] A MEDLEY 1 67 142 Learned. Recognized. 144 All her height. The six feet of stature {cf. Prol. 218) is now- parted with. The Prince is probably (cf. II. 33) not of less height, but grows from now to the end more manly ; while the Princess loses the masculine traits that have been prominent hitherto. The poem was made a " Medley," in part, to allow such changes. 145 Lengthened on the sand. "An object standing on wet sunlit sand is remarkably elongated in reflection." — Wallace. 148 Play the Lion s mane. Play the part of having one. 151 Of your will. Objective genitive: 'have gained by conquest what you wished.' 153 Oro'd. Gathered into, confined to, the circle of what is solely yours. 158 Nemesis. " To the Greeks the Goddess of Moral Justice, and as such most commonly regarded as the personification of Divine Retribu- tion for insolence or reckless defiance of established principles." — Wal- lace. 164 Beats true woman. 'Makes a woman's nature by its beating'; a species of " accusative of effect." 166 Port of sense. Approach, access, to feeling. 180 Love. "Wedded love, of which the child is, by a Latin phrase, the 'pledge.'" — Wallace. 186 Dead prime. Later small hours of the night; " called dead be- cause the vital forces are then at their lowest, and because of the hush." ■ — Cook. 188 The yoke. Bondage to man, — marriage. 193 Swum in thanks. Was covered, "rilled," with tears of grat- itude. 202 Part. Cf. II, 1 66, and note. the child ? () Do you or do you not find his appeal tactful ? (c) How can he dare (11. 167-171) to be so bold? 14 (a) What (11. 171, 172) is the first effect of Cyril's plea? Is he the object of the feeling he arouses ? What is the next mood, and how is it evolved ? (c) Why is it, how can it be the " men " (1. 181) who enforce the parting ? Is she not victor? (d) Why is not her feeling (1. 190) towards Cyril as at the end of his appeal ? (e) Is any contrast suggested between the Psyche who harangued (II. 101-164) and (11. 194-197) this mother ? 15 (a) How did Psyche, without indictment, know so completely Ida's feeling ? (o) What word in her first sentence (1. 199) has stress ? (c) Why does she say this ? (d) Why (1. 201) does she feel unfit? 1 68 THE PRINCESS [canto vi 205, 206 The woman is so hard. " This unamiable trait results from woman's mission as the conservator of society. In this respect, woman's character is very narrow, but she feels instinctively that she cannot af- ford to be lax in offenses against social laws. Psyche's weakness had in fact broken up Ida's university, and sins against the family tend to break up society." — Dawson. 235 Could share. Having found one who could receive. 238 Tower. Observatory. 244 Mother' 's •judgment. Cf. 1. 218. 247 Fretted. Consumed; the original meaning of the word. 251 Wept. Came with the softness and gentleness of tears. 255 From my wounds. From almost the level of my body. 264 Dirmrid her. Cf. 1. 253. 270 Hollow heart. Cf. 11. 245-247. 281 Nightmare weight. Cf. 1. no. 283 Adit. Approach, entrance. 16 (a) How must it have seemed as Ida (1. 203) gazes at the child in its mother's arms, but sees not its mother ? (6) Why does the author have all this enacted in presence of the men ? (c) How can woman, typically of so much tenderer feeling, be harder upon the woman than man upon the man ? 17 (a) Why has Ida shifted her gaze (1. 210) from the child to the ground ? [b) What does the next line measure to imagination ? (e) What is it that " moves " Gama ? 18 («WWhy does Gama say (1. 215) steel temper! (^What do we learn, from the manner (1. 217) of Gama's reference, was the feeling at court concerning Ida's disposition? (e) Why does he repeat this here? (djf* How far is the argument (11. 226-231) from Gama's self-denial com- pelling, — at least with us? (e) What does all flushed (\. 233) imagina- tively suggest to us? (f) Do you imagine there are pauses between some of these utterances of the king ? If so, what ones ? 19 (a) What change, from the pose hitherto, is indicated in 1. 251 ? (/;) What feeling lies back of (1. 253) the doubtful smile? (e) Has the Prince's father spoken before? Why? (d) Has the king, now, changed his mind ? (rA/Does he misunderstand the Princess, or say what he says for effect' merely ? (/) What was the tempest (1. 263) that all ex- pected ? ( g ) What makes genial warmth once move ? (//) Why are there (1. 266) glittering drops ? 20 (a) Why does the Princess make Psyche come all the way ? (b) Is Ida afraid (1. 268) she shall change her mind ? (e) Is she sure (1. 272) she wants forgiveness ? Could she tell why she feels so ? (d ) Can you analyze the feeling that expresses itself (1. 275) in dear traitor! 21 (a) Does Ida realize what (1. 278) she is saying, or the motive that has swayed her ? What are the emphasized words in the line referred to? (b) Whom does she mean (1. 282) by yours ? (c) What inducement canto vi j A MEDLEY l6 9 288 Kills me with myself. «C£ III. 241 ; though the sense is not the same, the meaning here being that she feels crushed, not by anything external, but by the- intensity of her natural emotions returning to their own place." — Wallace. 280 Mob me up with. Merges all there is of me in. ,02 "In the middle of a broken stream of water, or between con- fluent currents, there are formed little circles of whirling water < eddies, which continue to rotate without making progress down stream. — Wallace. *I0 l€ Pharos. Lighthouse; from the name of a celebrated one built on the island of Pharos, near Alexandria, in classic times. ,27 Gave his hand. But without apparently uttering a word. i his king/we are to remember, is not usually slow of speech. -230 Vestal. Cf. II. 204, and note. Shriek* d To emphasize the conflict of associations, as these mailed soldiers enter, the author indulges, half-facetiously, in a few conceits. -The very doors and floors of the palace seem to protest against this violation of their virgin purpose, and the long-drawn grind of heavily working hinges, and the sharp shrill tone emitted by marble when struck & and scraped by hard iron, are by that curious conceit < the pathetic fallacy ' regarded respectively as a groan and a shriek ot help- less horror." — Wallace. . , 338 Supporters. The figures facing each other on an heraldic shield, as the lion and the unicorn on the royal arms of England. apparently, as she sees it, in the proposition (11. 283, 284) to stop the college ' " 22(a) What makes this strong-minded creature (1. 291] 1 weep passion- ate tears'? (6) Why does not the King answer? (c) Why does Ida answer (L 296 with a bitter smile ? Can she not deny ? (d) On which SE must Violet's cousin (1. 299) have fought? (e) Why does the Princess acquiesce (1. 303) in the general law-breaking? (/) Under average circumstances, what would be the effect of Blanche s words ? 23 {a) Why is Ida's voice (1. 313) ^11 of scorn ? (b) Show the appro- priateness of the preceding figure. „. , 2A (a) Why does Ida declare, now, that not one but all shall be ad- mitted, though there is yet no consent that she nurse the Prince? (b) Whom does she mean (1. 318) by you ? . 2 c (a) What is her purpose as she (1. 323) turns ? (b) What imagina- tive inference is forced from us by the next clause? (c) Is indignation the sole feeling? (d) Did not Arac do more (1. 325) than come? (e) What need that the Prince's father give (1. 3*7) 1 his hand ? 26 (a) Who are meant (1. 328) by us ? (b) What doors are these (1. 330) that groan ? What girls make up (1. 333) *}*.a£sh ? (c) Why does Ida (1 337) take her post by the throne? (d) Why is it artistically well, here and now, to show with her those monstrous pets? Je) Explain (1 340) rolling eyes. Do soldiers ever behave thus ? (/) What causes 17° THE PRINCESS [canto vii 344 Shot. Reflected with such vividness and intensity as of the light in a discharge of firearms; a degree-figure. 347, 348 Minerva and Diana are incensed at this invasion of their precincts. Cf. 1. 330, and note to "shrieked," above. 350 Shuddering. The mood of the author reaches its climax in this conceit, which under different circumstances, would be pestilent and intolerable. Cf. the more organic and truly interpretative "beauty" figure in Pro I. 66, 67. 354 Long-laid. Suggests magnitude of plan. Cf. "deep-laid." 355 Due. Owed to, devoted to. 361 Held sagest. Most sensible and helpful; in Ida's judgment, least likely to think upon the young knights amorously. CANTO VII. I According to the fiction of the Prologue, the seventh and final nar- rator now takes up the story. It is the supreme task of the poem, and is executed with noble patience and skill. 3 All confusion. This woman's world was forthwith topsy-turvy: every precept and principle is overthrown. 4 Other laws. Than had administered it before. But "Order" is undoubtedly personified in the author's mind. 5 Kindlier. Than when this commonwealth was vestal. The rule of even men's colleges has been thought at times other than kindly and sympathetic. (1. 342) the hush ? (g) What conflict or contrast of associations in the remainder of the paragraph ? 27 (a) Why should not some captain's voice (11. 351, 352), after it is whispered by Ida where the sick are to be borne, issue ordinance ? (//) Are we to understand that the chamber (1. 355) is deeper and more shut from sound than others? (c) Ida set out (1. 53) to bring in the hurt brothers, only. Do not these now have the choicest rooms ? (d) What girls (11. 360, 361) were not permitted to stay ? (e) Why is it well to mention, at the present point, that only the great lords (1. 361) have the freedom of the college ? (/) If the author could not have made Blanche use her tongue, how would matters have been brought to the present pass ? 28 (a) Do you find or not find, in these stanzas, that it is the author's purpose to force an amorous conclusion ? (b) What influences, not ex- erted actively by or from the Prince, are recognized by the Princess as now at work ? (c) Is this prevailment an unmanly one ? VII. I (a) Was the spirit or (1. 5) influence m the government of women's colleges and seminaries, when this poem was written, always kindly ? (l>) Does the author mean to imply that the girls, now turned nurses, should not have studied after the academic fashion of the earlier cantos ? canto vnj A MEDLEY I? 1 7 Hung round the sick. The low voices of the tending women did not rise far above the sufferers, and their hands, smoothing pillows and administering delicacies, seemed never to be away. 8, 9 Began to gather light. "Knowledge" cannot transfigure the face. Only the completed beauty of the soul does that. II Angel offices. Offices that only angels, or those having the angel nature, — not mere hirelings, can render. 13 Their 07011 clear element. "The pure and perfect atmosphere proper to their finer nature." — Wallace. 14 Fell. And held possession; as we imply in "fall of snow." 15 Shame. The impulses of maiden modesty. 16 FaiTd. Lost their quality and power, to her. 18 Leaguer. "The army beleaguering the place." — Cook. 19 Void 10a s her use. Empty, emptied, seemed her habitual em- ployments. 20 To gaze. To enjoy the view of. 21 And sees. Instead of the calm distant prospect. 22 Drag inward. "Here used intransitively to designate the slow laborious movement of a huge bulk." — Wallace. 23 Verge. Horizon. Cf IV. 29. 25 Tarn. Small dark lake; properly among mountains. 26 So fared she gazing there. That is, her feelings of disappointment are much the same in kind, though vastly greater in degree. 30 And. Continuative towards more vital matters. 31 Flickering. Unsteady, fluttering. Gyres. Spirals. 32 Muffled cage. The body; "muffled," in that the sensorium can receive no impressions. 33 Of life. In which the soul is held confined. Gloom d. Passed into gloom. The verb is made to denote here repeated, customary action, like the same tense in Greek. 34 Drew the great night into themselves. "Seemed to absorb the dark- ness, whence the epithet broader -grown." — Wallace. 36 Weird doubts. The old and strange affection, the " seizures " are now spoken of as ' doubts ' merely. Cf. IV. 548. Thus the author pre- pares to dismiss from consideration an important feature in his treatment of the Prince's personality. Cf. I. 18, and note. In the first, second, and third editions the device of "weird seizures " was not employed. 2 {a) Why should Ida hate (1. 15) her weakness, or feel shame ? (b) Why did she climb to the roofs (1. 17) and gaze absently at the camp ? (c) How should she find (1. 29) peace after such disappointment, any- where ? 3 (a) Show whether muffled cage (1. 32) is interpretatively excellent or apt. (b) What is the artistic purpose of this paragraph as a whole ? (Y) Why does it not tell who nurses the Prince ? Do we know who it 172 THE PRINCESS [canto vit 43 Bright. Cf. II. 302. 44 A light of healing. Beauty that could heal ; explained by 11. 46, 47- 45 Silks. Curtains about the couch. 48 length. Tedium. 60 Built itpoi. Founded claims upon; but of course without mention. 70 Held carnival. Behaved like one celebrating Carnival : revelled without restriction. After Psyche's listening to Cyril went unreproved, there could be no protests from the " Head." 71 Random sweet. Carnival folk in the processions pelt unceremoni- ously with comfits every one they meet. Cupid cannot, we may conceit, fly arrows here ; in the unconventional familiarity of present conditions he has taken to throwing confetti, — bonbons. 86 Frustration. The Prince's case seems hopeless. All the other hurt are well. The Princess's superior care of this patient has availed nothing. 87 All-weary noons. That is. to one who has been deprived many nights of sleep. 89 Throbb ' ef thunder. Apparently the outside [cf. I. 213) clocks and chimes. 89, 90 Called on flying Time. The clocks within the palace "call on Time as he hurries by." — Wallace. is ? (d) And what as to the lapse of time ? (e) Why is the whole so vague ? 4 (a) What contrast immediately in this paragraph ? (b) How can the Prince (1. 42) say us ? (c) How can Melissa (11. 42, 43), after found guilty as Psyche and her mother, keep court-favor ? (d) Why should the author detail the love-making between Melissa and Florian thus ? 5 (a) Why does the author (1. 57) say sworn} (b) What exactly does 1. 60 mean ? (e) What state of mind do we see is implied (1. 64) in hung ? (d) What principles, personal or other, are seen in Psyche's "yield- ing " ? (e) Could Ida's affections go out after such a fashion? (/) Why is this paragraph given ? 6 (a) Since the halls (1. 69) are consecrated to the execration of Cupid, are sacred against him, what propriety in the epithet ? (b) If such love- making is inevitable, why detail it ? (c) Have all these swains (cf. VI. 361 and Question) been nursed? (d ) Do you think the author should have made the Prince's father plead ? 7 (a) What was the mode or condition before (1. 77) the change? (b) What would be the effect of such delirium upon Ida ? (c) What of the things (11. 80-83) he says? (d) What (1. 86) of the frustration? (c) Why does the author mass (11. 87-97) so many reasons, further, — is it to account for the Princess's change of feelings, or to alleviate the impres- sions such change will make? (/) How far is the approval to be wrought, assisted by the manner, by the language and imagery, in which it is essayed ? canto vn] A MEDLEY 1 73 100 Harebell. "One of the most beautiful of European wild herbs, having a slender delicate stalk, and drooping flowers of a pale blue tint." — Wallace. 1 06 Slept on the 70a lis. A light of astral softness, shaded from the Prince's eyes, shines on the walls. 109 Oppiari law. "A sumptuary law passed during the time of the direst distress of Rome, when Hannibal was almost at the gates. It enacted that no woman should wear a gay-colored dress, or have moie than half an ounce of gold ornaments, and that none should approach within a mile of any city or town in a car drawn by horses. The war being concluded, and the emergency over, the women demanded the re- peal of the law. They gained one consul, but Cato, the other, resisted. The women rose, thronged the streets and forum, and harassed the magistrates until the law was repealed. "—Dawson. 112 Hortensia. The triumvirs, after the assassination of Julius Caesar, proposed the levy of a tax upon rich women. Hortensia, daughter of Quintus Hortensius the orator, spoke against the measure with such eloquence that it was not decreed. 113 Axe and eagle. Fasces, representing the civil, and standards, representing the military, power, which the triumviri had assumed. 115 Alluding to the tradition, as typical, that Romulus and Remus were suckled by a she-wolf. 121 Dzuelt. The tear is constant in her eye. 123 Came round my wrist. Cf. " feeling finger " (VI. 105). 124 Self-pity. At the helplessness and hopelessness of his plight. 142 Living world. World of the living. 146 "Note how this serves also to introduce the picture of the un- clothed Aphrodite. "- — Cook. 8 (a) What are we to understand (1. 106) from painted} Were the walls frescoed merely ? (/;) What is thus suggested concerning the pro- portions of the room ? (c) Would the effect of such designs, after long unconsciousness, be reassuring ? 9 (a) What mood is indicated, if we remember the great positiveness of Ida's character, in (1. 120) palm to palm she sat ? (b) How far is what seemed changed (11. 121. 122) in her figure to be taken as actually the result of her new angel moods and ministries ? (<•) What is found in the contrast (1. 123) between the touch round the wrist, and the earlier (VI. 105) one ? (d) Explain (1. 124) self-pity. (e) What difference (1. 129) between whisperingly and in whispers ? 10 {a) What does the Prince (1. 131) mean in fulfil yourself '? (b) How is the Ida whom he knew different ? () Why fear what the Prince has said, which is not a tithe of her own late dreams, will never be ? 23 (a) Does each fulfil (1. 285) defect in each ? (6) What means, prac- tically, thought in thought, they groiv ? 24 (a) When could the Princess have had (1. 290) such a dream? (l>) How does she know that the Prince's nurture was a woman's mn% ture? • 25 (a) Do you think the next doctrine (11. 294-297) Tennyson's, or conclusion] A MEDLEY 1/7 303 Interpreter betzveen the Gods and men. The true woman and true mother must be chiefly this. 308 Music. Of the spheres. 322 Mens reverence. Other men's, those of her father's court. 323 On pranks. Into the escapade of the disguise, and false entrance of Ida's college. 327 Lived over. Cf. "lived down." 329 Has killed it. This is 'cute, but scarcely artistic. Cf. 1. 36, above, and note. The author should have done away with his device more reasonably. 332 Approach. The Prince cannot for weakness draw her to him- self; and, from misgivings (cf. 11. 317, 318), she is nut leaning, — •'approaching," so closely as he thinks meet. 336 Reels. "Any object seen through a curtain of hot smoke seems to shiver and waver." — Wallace. 337 Weeds. The early editions here read flowers. But the past that is burning is only weeds. 342 Wome. The Princess, what for distrust of herself, and what for modesty, is reluctant still. CONCLUSION. 2, 3 Thus the author avoids the absurdity of pretending that the diction of each speaker is preserved. The rest told their parts of the story in plain prose. He, the poet, makes the poem. II Mock-heroic. As in the introduction of the Princess (II. 28-52), with her two leopard "cats." 17 Cf. VI. 144, and note. 24 Realists. Those who wished (1. 18) for something real. 27 Strange diagonal. The compromise or resultant between serious and burlesque treatment would have yielded certainly a strange product. true ? (b) What do you say of 11. 306-308 ? if) And what of the last line of the paragraph ? 26 (a) What now (1. 313) disturbs Ida? (b) Where or how can she (11. 315, 316) have heard of his doubts! What does she really mean by this word ? (c) What is this allusion introduced for ? 27 (a) Why does the Prince (1. 318) say thee! Has the Princess ap- plied this pronoun to him ? (b) Do you think the cause sufficient to have produced (1. 327) the effect declared ? (c) How far do you find this a lover's poem ? 1 (a) Is Walter (1. 5) serious ? (b) Where (1. 12) does the bantering occur ? (c) Do we find the last canto more solemn than the one preced- ing ? 2 (a) Had the author reason to think Lilia's refraining from the dis- 178 THE PRINCESS [conclusion But the author's figure is not quite correct; the serious and the corned ial are not interfused or alternated, but relegated to opposite ends of the poem. 29 But Lilia pleased me. Whether the poem at large was satisfactory or not, the effect of it upon Lilia was pleasing to me. 35 Jocular: ' She might have told us something certainly; she had the data.' 42 Far -shadowing. Properly ' casting long shadows ' ; but probably here ' far-shadowed, ' ' lying in long shadows. ' 43 Halls. Like this manor-house of the Vivians, and "Locksley Hall." 49 There, a garden. Said as the college friend points to the east- ward, over the valleys; in contrast with "there," in the next line, when he points across the Channel. The present paragraph appears first in the edition of 1850. "The poet's mind was no doubt full of the turmoil in France which broke oue shortly after the publication of the first edition." — Dawson. 57 Crowd. Mob. 58 Heat. Political excitement, crisis. 66 Barring out. "The term applied when a rebellious class of pupils bolt the door against the entrance of the master. "— Wallace. 87 Pine. Pineapples. 90 Quarter-sessions. A quarterly court, in which, in the English shires, petty offenses are tried. 97 Rookery. Rooks flying in a long line homeward. Cf. Locksley Hall, 1. 68. 100 Of sunset. Formed of or by the sunset; gen. subjective. 110 Blackened. Grew into blackness. 112 Region of the wind. The lower air. pute (11. 29, 30) remarkable ? (b) What in the sequel pre touched her"? (c) What mood is indicated (11. 31, 32) in what robably has rhat she does ? (d) What meanings, by way of Lilia, has the author forced upon the reader ? (e) What is the evident purpose of the poem as a whole ? 3 (a) Why does the author (1. 39) put his first person first? (b) In what part of England (1. 48) is this estate ? 4 (a) Why mention that the friend (1. 50) is the Tory member s son ? (b) This paragraph appears first in the Third Edition, which came out in 1850. What could he have intended by it ? 5 (a) What apparently (1. 73) has the poet in mind? (b) What does he mean by, and in (1. 76) a faith ? 6 (a) What is lord (1. 86) in contrast with ? (b) Why does the author call the shout (1. 101) more joyful than the city -roar ? (c) Why does he add (1. 105) /likewise! 7 (a) Why should these (1. 106) go back to the Abbey? (b) Why should not (1. 108) at least the Aunt talk ? (c) Why does the author add this paragraph to the whole ? conclusion] a MEDLEY 1 79 113 Deepening the courts of twilight, •' The darkness, more and more pervading the twilight, at last dispersed it as it were into fragments, which it scattered throughout the univer«^ up and up to the furthest recesses of Heaven." — Wallace. 117 Disrobed the statue. The Prince has put on the attire of a woman, the Princess has tried to make herself a man. The statue of Sir Ralph, robed {Prol. 100-105) b y Lilia in red and yellow silks, has been typical of the incongruities and contradictions of the story. Lilia, now sobered from her fantastic mood, is willing to leave to Sir Ralph and his sex (Cf. Prol. 127-129) all the warfare of the world. 8 (a) Why mention (1. 116) that Lilia rises quietly ? [b) Was this the signal to depart ? (c) How have our impressions of Lilia changed ? (d) Does the author mean to hint here that strong-minded theories of woman- hood may affect womanhood itself? How far would such a notion be correct ? INDEX TO NOTES. abuse of war, 157 Academe, 131 addressed, 155 adit, 168 advent, 150 affect abstraction, 134 affianced, 132 Agincourt. no airy Giant's zone, 159 a king a king, 119 all confusion, 170 all ber height, 167 all prophetic pity, 161 all-weary noons, 172 all wild to found, 123 amazed, 157 ambrosial, 112 ambrosial gloom, 145 Ammonites, 1 10 and, 149 angel offices, 171 animal, 176 approach, 177 Ascalon, no as flies shadow, 138 Aspasia, 134 assumed the Prince, 155 as first of May, 117 Astraean age, 135 as who, 152 as you came, 133 at parle, 157 awful odes, 123 awnings gay, 126 axe and eagle, 173 azure pillars, 175 babble, 142 bantling, 163 bare on, 163 barring out, 178 bassoon, 135 beam, 130 beard-blown, T46 beats true woman, 167 began to gather light, 171 bestrode, 132 bickers, 139 blackened, 178 blanched, 165 blazoned like heaven and earth, 125 blazoned what they were, blowzed, 150 board, 126 bolts of heaven, 152 book of scorn, J58 bootless calf, 119 bottom agates, 133 bowed her state, 131 boys, 124 branches, 132 break of day, 126 breathed, 113 breathes full East, 141 brede, 166 bright, 172 broadening, 140 bronze valves, 160 built upon, 172 Bulbul, 147 bulked in ice, 158 burgeon, 176 burst, 165 bussed, 159 but, 123 but bringing up, 114 by frosty dark, 159 by the word, 160 called on flying Time, 172 came round my wrist, T73 canceled, 146 canzonets, 147 captains, 121 careless of the snare, 125 Carian Artemisia, 128 Caryatids, 149 Cassiopeia, 153 Castalies, 151 cast and fling, 127 cast no shadow, 118 catapults, 158 celts, no champaign, 139 I charred and wrinkled, 157 chattering, 144 cherry net, 158 chimeras, 116 civil head, 151 clad in purest white, 136 clang, 139, 153 clash, 158 classic angel, 138 claymore, no climax of his age, 127 clog of thanks, 166 cloisters, 115 close with, 139 clown, 149 clown and satyr, 158 clutched, 138 color, 143 come, 177 come down O maid, 174 compact, 120 consonant chords, 138 contract, 152 convention, 1-4, 128 cooked his spleen, 121 coppice feathered, 145 copse, 125 Comma's triumph, 144 Cornelia, 128 court, 154 court-Galen, 118 courts of twilight, 179 cowards to their shame, 160 cowled, 165 crabbed and gnarled, 139 cram our ears, 146 crimson-rolling eye, 154 crotchets, 116 crowd, 178 cruel sunshine, 154 curls, 138 cursed Malayan crease, no dame of Lapidoth, 164 Dane, 174 Danald, 133 dare we dream, 143 l8l 182 INDEX TO NOTES. dashed with death, 158 daughters of the plough, 150 dazzled down, 153 deadly lurks, 132 dead prime, 167 deans, 114 Death and Morning, 175 deathless, 157 death's head at vine, 146 Demigods, 144 dewy-tasseled trees, 121 dimmed her, 168 Diotima, 143 dip, 140 disrobes the statue, 179 dissipated, 142 double light, 174 dowagers, 114 drag inward, 171 drew, 163 drew night into themselves, 171 drove his cheek in lines, 122 drowsy, 156 Druid rock, 150 drunkard's football, 154 due, 170 duer unto, 147 duty duty, 140 dwarfs, 153 dwelt, 173 Egypt-plague, 162 either guilt, 149 elm and vine, 133 Elysian lawns, 143 embossed, 161 empanoplied, 163 empurpled, 139 encarnalize, 143 enringed, 126 entered on the boards, 128 epic, 117 erring, 146 even, 141 even so with woman, 130 fabled nothing fair, 140 facts, 1 1 1 f .ided form, 136 failed, 171 fair day for text. 113 fair young planet, 176 fairy parachute, 112 falling on my face, 150 falsely brown, 136 fangs, 165 fared she gazing, 171 far-shadowing, 178 fatling, 166 fear stared, 152 fed her theories, 123 fell, 171 field, 160 fire balloon, tit first fruits of the stranger, 127 flashes scorn, 158 fleckless, 133 fledged with music, 145 fled on, 140 flickering, 171 florid, 144 flush, 160 folded, 157 for, 132 for a sign, 125 forms, 129 for their sport, 161 for warning, 132 foundation, 134 foursquare to opposition, J 59 frets but chafing, 124 fretted, 168 fretwork, 166 from my wounds, 168 frustration, 17 2 full-blown, 125 full-summed, 176 fulmined, 130 furrow-cloven, 175 gad-fly, 162 gagelike to man, 158 Ganymedes, 138 garth, 132 gave, 112, 125 gave his hand, 169 ghostly shadowings, 155 giftS, T20 glazed with moonlight, 125 glimmering, 156 glimmeringly grouped, 148 glittering bergs, 146 gloomed, 171 glow, 148 glow-worm light, 153 goblins, 159 gold, 145 golden-shafted firm, 135 golden wishes, 153 Graces, 126 grain, 151 grand imaginations, 142 grange, 122, 132 gratulation, 131 gray mare ill to live with, 163 greater than all knowledge, Greek, 109 green malignant light, 139 Gulistan, 147 gynaeceum, 142 gyres, 171 half-canonized, 119 halls, 178 hammer at, 139 hand in h. with Plenty, 175 happy faces and holiday, in harangue, 128 harebell, 173 has killed it, 177 Head, 137 head and heart, 140 headed like a star, 129 heart, 178 heave and thump, 139 held carnival, 172 held sagest, 170 her height, 127 high tide of feast, 124 hissing, 156 hollow heart, 168 hollow watch, 166 home to horse, 148 Homer, Pfato, Verulam, 130 homicidal, 117 honeying, 113 hooded brows, 149 Hortensia, 173 household flower torn, 157 household stuff, 154 household talk, i ^3 hung round the sick, 171 husbandry, 123 idle, 160 I first. 126 ill, i57 imperial tent, 156 in extremis, 158 inflamed, 121 inosculated, 138 interpreter between gods and men, 177 Iris, 137 iron hills, 158 isles of light, 165 is the cry, 149 _ Ithacensian suitors, 147 ivory s., i.e., in sphere, no Jael, 163 jewels five words long, 134 Jonah's gourd, 151 "Judith, 149 justlier balanced, 127 just seen that it was rich, 125 INDEX TO NOTES. 183 kex, 146 kick against, 153 kills me with myself, 169 kindlier, 170 knowledge, 123 know shadow from sub- stance, 118 labor of the loom, 120 ladies' eyes, 163 lady-clad, 113 lady glanced, 129 Lady Psyche'", 128 land of echoes, 163 landskip, 153 Lar and Lucumo, T29 laughed with alien lips, 147 laughing-stocks of Time, 1 ,54 lawns, 109, 145 laws Salique, 130 lay at wine, 129 leaguer, 171 learnt, 167 length, 172 Lethe, 175 liberal offices of life, 131 lidless, 151 lieu of mortal flies, 141 light coin, 127 light of healing, 172 like ghostly woodpecker, 116 like parting hopes, 148 like potherbs, 163 like this kneeler, 151 lilted out, 134 lily-shining, 150 limed, 140 lions, 156 lisped, 175 lists, 161 lived over, 177 lived thro' her, 127 lived upon my lips, 151 livelier land, 122 living wills, 148 living world, 173 long-laid, 170 long walks. 115 lord you, i 54 lose the child, 123 lost their weeks, 115 love, 167 lucid, 126 Lucius Junius Brutus, 133 Lycian custom, 129 made bricks in Egypt, 147 magic music, 115 Mahomet, 130 maiden, 154 maiden fancies, 120, 121 makes noble, 128 malison 135 mankind, 165 manners, 148 marsh-divers, 147 masque or pageant, 124 master, 113 mawkin, 156 meadow-crake, 147 mellay, 163 melodious thunder, 136 Memnon, 139 men's reverence, 177 mincing, 135 minted, 158 miracle of women, m missive, 160 Mnemosyne. 150 mob me up with, 169 mock-heroic, 177 mock Hymen, 148 mock love, 148 Moll and Meg, 148 molten, 146 monstrous idols, 146 mood, 174 moral leper, 149 morning hills, 132 mother-city, 122 motion, 161 muffled, 136 muffled cage, 171 muses, 126 music, 177 musky circled mazes, 150 mystic fire, 150 Nemesis, 167 never died or lived, 164 next inherited, 155 night and peace, 159 nightmare weight. 168 night of Summer, 165 Niobean daughter, 152 no livelier, 129 nor found, 148 no rose, 158 not of those, 128 nymph Egeria, i:8 Oasis, 131 Odalisques, 128 of city sacked, 148 of clocks and chimes, 125 of men, 130 ■ of sunset, 178 of temper amorous, 117 of three castles, 121 of the world. 176 of use and glory, 127 of war, 156 old leaven, 161 on fire, 124 on pranks, 177 on the slope, 111 on the spur, 123 Oppian law, 173 oration-like, icr orbed, 167 other heart, 120 other laws, 170 our meaning here, 141 our place, 176 ourself. 127 ourselves, 122 out of place, 123 owed, 48 own clear element, 171 parasitic forms, 176 parted, 131 pass, 132 pasture, 111 pavement, icg peasant Joan, 130 pedant's wand, 119 Persephone, 153 Pharos, 169 phrases of the hearth, 133 pine, 178 planed her path, 151 platans, 140 played the patron, 114 play the lion's mane, 167 pledge in wassail, 115 port of sense, 167 post, 124 pou sto, 142 presence room, 120 prettiest, 125 prime, 139 Proctor's dogs, 113 proof, 142 protomartyr, 154 proud, 176 proxy- wedded, 119 public use, 151 puddled, 140 puffed pursuer, 150 puissance, 120 quarter-sessions, 178 raced purple fly, 132 rain an April, 165 random, 139 random sweet, 172 ran up his forks, 140 rapt, in, 148 raw from the prime, 129 read down to dreams, 132 realists, 177 184 INDEX TO NOTES. red cross, if 5 red grief, 166 redound, 127 reels, 177 regal compact, 153 region of the wind, 17S retinue, 141 Rhodope, 128 rich as Emperor-nroths, 1 14 rick flames, 1 52 right and left, 138 Roman brows of Agrippina, 128 rookery, 178 rose with wings, 125 rosy heights, 144 rotten pales, 130 round white shoulder, 151 ruin, 134 running flood, 161 Samian Here, 139 sandal, no sandy footprint harden, 142 sapience, 132 Sappho, 130 sat, 129 satin-wood, 129 'sdeath, 159 seats, 112 second sight, 135 secular, 133 self-pity, 173 Semiramis, 128 serenades, 147 set in rubric, 1 37 set with wilful thorns. 114 shadow of a dream, 118 shadows in a dream, 117 shallop, 136 shame, 371 shards, 158 Sheba, 134 she bowed, 166 she told, 151 shining steps of Nature, 176 shiver to one note, 138 shone like a jewel, 144 shook the woods, 143 shot, 170 shower the fiery grain, 162 shrieked, 169 shuddering, 170 sibilation, 124 signs, 175 silken-sandaled, 114 silks, 172 Silver Horns, 175 silver litanies, 136 sinew-corded, 163 Sirens, 132 skirts of Time, 176 slain. 156 sleek, 128 slept on the walls, 173 sludge, 156 slur, 124 smacking of the time, 112 snowed, 121 sobbed, 133 softer Adams, 131 Soldier-laddie, 112 solecisms, 1 16 something wild, 175 South-sea-isle taboo, 142 Spartan mother, 133 sphere, 139 sphered up with, 153 sphered whole, 148 starred mosaic, 146 star-sisters answering, 135 statelier Eden back, 176 stationary, 156 statutes, 127 stayed up, 115 steep-up, in stem, 151 still, 120 stones of Abbey-ruin, 109 stony names, 144 stooped to me, 153 strait-besieged, in strange diagonal, 177 stunted squaws, 128 substance, 135 suit with time and place, 117 sun-shaded, 132 superstition all awry, 130 supporters, 169 sward was trim, 112 sweet love were slain, 176 swum in thanks, 167 tangled business of the world, 131 tarn, 171 tavern-catch, 148 temperament, 149 tender things, 157 than in her mould, 174 than the dame, 129 that which made, 130 theatres, 134 their baldness, 156 there a garden, 178 there was one, 176 the yoke, 167 the liberties, 124 the muse, 147 the Palmyrene, 128 the Time, 162 _ thews of men, 150 third, 159 this marble, 13S those lilies, 138 those to avenge, 154 threaded spiders, 122 throbbed thunder, 172 thro' warp and woof, 121 throw the world, 176 tile to scullery, 163 tilth, 122 time and frost, 112 timorously, 166 to-and-fro, T33 to fetch her, 120 to gaze, 171 to guerdon, 124 Tomyris, 161 to read, 115 tortured, 166 to the sun, 165 touch of sunshine, 144 touchwood, 151 transient, 156 troll, 144 troth, 159 troubled, 121 true hearts, 175 twinned, 120 two bulks ; 163 two streams of light, 136 type them, 176 underworld, 146 unmanned me, 135 unworthier, 113 up, 150 Uranian Venus, 125 valentines, 159 Valkyrian hymns, 147 valves, 149 Vashti, 141 vast bulk, 143 , verge, 171 vestal limit, 132 victor of hymns, 144 Vulcans, 138 vulture throat, 152 wakes, 156 waking dreams, 118 Walter Vivian, 109 wan 137 warbling fury, 155 warmer currents, 151 was he bound to speak, 124 washed with morning, 159 weight of emblem, 149 weird doubts, 171 weird seizures, 118 wept, 168 were and were not, 140 were touched. 13; we were seven, 109 INDEX TO NOTES. 185 whelpless eye, 166 whispered, 156 white wake, 137 wild barbarians, 137 wild figtree, 146 wild woods, 1 2i winged her transit, 152 winters of abeyance, 153 wisp, in without a star, 122 with system, 153 woaded. 129 woman and man, 130 woman built. 154 woman is so hard, 168 woman not undev. man, 176 woman's Angel. 161 woman's slought, 157 work of Ida, 136 would make it death, 114 wrinkled precipices, 145 year, 157 you worthiest, 153 your, 139 your father's frontier, 12; your ideal, 127 zone, 135 Ewjlisb IReafcings for Students. English masterpieces in editions at once co?npetently edited and inexpensive. The aim will be to fill vacancies now existing because of subject, treatment, or price. Prices given below are NET, postage eight per cent, additional, lb/no. Cloth. Arnold (Matthew): Prose Selections. Edited by Lewis E. Gates, Asst. Professor in Harvard, xci -f- 348 pp. 90c. includes The Function of Criticism, First Lecture on Trans- lating Homer, Literature and Science, Culture and Anarchy, Sweetness and Light, Compulsory Education, " Life a Dream," Emerson, and twelve shorter selections, including America. Bliss Perry, Professor in Princeton: — ''The selections seem to me most happy, and the introduction is even better if possible than his introduction to the Newman volume. Indeed 1 have read no criticism of Arnold's prose which appears to me as luminous and just, and expressed with such literary charm." Browning : Selected Lyrical and Dramatic Poems. With the essay on Browning from E. 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The selections, varying in length from a paragraph to ten or twenty pages, are mainly from Table Talk and Biographia Literaria, but also from Notes on Shakespeare etc. English Readings for Students, De Quincey : Joan of Arc ; The Mail Coach. Edited by James Morgan Hart, Professor in Cornell University. xxvi + 138 pp. 50c. The introduction sketches De Quincey's life and style, Allusions and other difficult points are explained in the notes. This volume and the Essays on BoswelV *s~Johiison (see under Macaulay) are used at Cornell for elementary rhetorical study. Dryden : Essays on the Drama. Edited by Wm, Strunk, Jr., Instructor in Cornell University, xxxviii -\- 180 pp. 50c. This volume contains The Essay of Dramatic Poesy and, among the critical prefaces, Of Heroic Plays and The Grounds of Criticism in Tragedy. These are not only excellent speci- mens of classical English, but also have a high reputation for the value of their literary opinions. The introduction, besides treating of Dryden's life and prose style, sets forth clearly how he used the theories of the drama which he found in Aristotle, Horace, and Corneille. Ford : The Broken Heart. A Spartan Tragedy in vers*;. Edited by Clinton Scollard, Professor in Hamilton College. xvi + i32pP- 50c. (Buckram, 70c.) A play notable for its repressed emotion and psychological interest. Charles Lamb wrote: " I do not know where to find in any play a catastrophe so grand, so solemn, and so surpris- ing as this" [of The Broken Heart\ Johnson : Rasselas. Kdited by Oliver Farrar Emerson, Professor in Adelbert College. Ivi-|-i79pp. 50c. (Buckram, 70c.) The introduction treats of Johnson's sty:e the circumstances under which Rasselas was written, and its place in the history of fiction. The notes explain allusions and trace the sources of some of Johnson's materials. Lyly : Endimion, Edited by George P. Baker, Professor in Harvard College, cxcvi-f-109 pp. 85c. (Buckram, $1.25.) The Academy, London : — " It is refreshing to come upon such a piece of sterling work; . . . tee most complete and satisfactory account of Lyly that has yet appeared. English fadings for Students. Macaulay and Carlyle: Essays on Samuel Johnson. Edited by William Strunk, Jr., Instructor in Cornell University. xl+191 pp. 5°C; These two essays present a constant contrast in intellectual and moral methods of criticism, and offer an excellent introduction to the study of the literary history of Johnson's times. Marlowe : Edward II. With the best passages from Tamburlaine the Great, and from his Poems. Edited by the late Edward T. McLaughlin, Professor in Yale College. xxi-f-180 pp. 50c. (Buckram, 70c.) Edward ZZ., besides being Marlowe's most important play, is of great interest in connection with Shakespere. The earlier chronicle drama was in Shakespere's memory as he was writing Richard ZZ., as various passages prove, and a comparison of the two plays (sketched in the introduction) affords basis for a study in the development of the Elizabethan drama. Newman : Prose Selections. Edited by Lewis E. Gates, Professor in Harvard College, lxii+228 pp. 50c. (Buckram, 90c.) The selections lead the reader through some of the more picturesque and concrete passages of Newman's prose, to his impeachment of the liberal and irreligious tendencies of the age, his insistence on the powerlessness of science to make men moral, his defense of super- naturalism, his ridicule of English prejudice against Catholics, his statement of the Catholic position, and finally to two powerful imaginative pictures of supernatural interferences in the natural world-order. Tennyson: The Princess. Edited by L. A. Sherman, Professor in the University of Nebraska. [In preparation.] Postage 8 per cent, additional. HENRY HOLT & CO., 29 W. 23d St., New York. English fadings for Students. Specimens of prose Composition. itmo. Cloth. Per volume, 50^., NET. Prose Narration, Edited by William T. Brewster, Tutor in Columbia College. xxxviU -f-209 pp. Includes Selections from Scott, Thackeray, Hawthorne, Jane Austen, George Eliot, Stevenson, and Henry James. Part I. Ele- ments of Narrative — Plot, Character, Setting, and Purpose. Part II. Combination of the Elements of Narration. Part III. Various Kinds of Narrative. Part IV. Technique of Good Narrative. Prose Description. Edited by Charles Sears Baldwin, Ph.D., Instructor in Yale College. xlviii+145 pp. Includes: Ancient Athens (Newman) ; Paris Before the Second Empire (du Maurier); Bees (Burroughs); Byzantium (Gibbon); Geneva (Ruskin); The Storming of the Bastille (Carlyle); La Gio- conda, etc. (Pater); Blois (Henry James); Spring in a Side Street (Brander Matthews); A Night Among the Pines, etc. (Stevenson). Exposition. Edited by Hammond Lamont, Professor in Brown University, xxiv-f- 180 pp. Includes : Development of a Brief ; G. C. V. Holmes on the Steam-engine; Huxley on the Physical Basis of Life; Bryce on the U. S. Constitution; "The Nation" on the Unemployed; Wm. Archer on Albery's "Apple Blossoms"; Matthew Arnold on Wordsworth ; etc. Argumentation. Modern. Edited by George P. Baker, Professor in Harvard College. i6mo. 186 pp. Lord Chatham's speech on the withdrawal of troops from Boston, Lord Mansfield's argument in the Evans case, the first letter of Junius, the first of Huxley's American addresses on evolution, Erskine's defence of Lord George Gordon, an address by Beecher in Liverpool during the cotton riots, and specimen brief. Postage 8 per cent, additional. HENRY HOLT & CO., 29 W. 23d St., New York. " It covers almost every known phase of its subject, . . . and yet it is compact and readable."— Outlook. LAVIGNAC'S MUSIC AND MUSICIANS By Professor ALBERT Lavignac of the Paris Conservatory, au- thor of " The Music Dramas of Richard Wa.gner." Edited foi America by H. E. KREHBIEL, author of " How to Listen to Music," and translated by William Marchant. With 94 illustrations and 510 examples in musical notation. i2mo. $3.00. (Descriptive circular free.) A brilliant, sympathetic, and authoritative work covering musical sound, the voice, instruments, construction aes- thetics, and history. Practically a cyclopedia of its subject, with 1000 topics in the index. fV. J. Henderson in N. Y. Times' Saturday Revieiv : " A truly wonderful production . . . along and exhaustive ac- count of the manner of using the instruments of the orches- tra, with some highly instructive remarks on coloring . . . harmony he treats not only very fully, but also in a new and intensely interesting way . . . counterpoint isdiscussedwith great thoroughness . . . it seems to have been his idea when he began to let no interesting topic escape. He even finds space for a discussion of the beautiful in music . . . The wonder is that the author has succeeded in making those parts of the book which ought naturally to be dry so read- able. Indeed, in some of the treatment of such topics as acoustics the professor has written in a style which can be fairly described as fascinating . . . harmonics he has put before the reader more clearly than any other writer on the subject with whom we are acquainted. . . The pictures of the instruments are clear and very helpful to the reader . . .' It should have a wide circulation. . . It will serve as a general reference book for either the musician or the music-lover. It will save money in the purchase of a library by filling the places of several smaller books ... it contains references to other works which constitute a complete directory of musical literature. . . Taking it all in all, it is one of the most im- portant books on music that has ever been published." " One of ihe most important contributions yet made to literary history by an American scholar "—Outlook. BEERS' ENGLISH ROMANTICISM— xvm. century By Professor Henry A. Beers of Yale. 2d impression. Gilt top. i2mo. $2.00. New York Commercial Advertiser : " The individuality of his style, its humor, its color, its delicacy . . . will do quite as much to continue its author's reputation as his scholarship. . . The work of a man who has studied hard, but who has also lived." New York Times' Saturday Review : "Remarkably pene- trating fan d scholarly. . . It is a noteworthy book by an acknowledged authority upon a most interesting period." New York Tribune : " No less instructive than readable." Nation: "Always interesting. . . On the whole, may be com- mended as an excellent popular treatment of the special sub- ject of the literary revival of mediaevalism in the eighteenth century in England." HENRY HOLT & CO., 2e ^ e e ^ 2 §^I treet iv'99 " / do not know where else, within the limits, to find so delightful a selection of noble poems"— Prof. Thomas R. Price of Columbia. PANCOAST'S STANDARD ENGLISH POEMS From Spenser to Tennyson. Selected and edited by HENRY S. Pancoast, author of An Introduction to English Litera- ture, etc. 74g pp. i6mo. $1.50, net. Some 250 complete poems, besides selections from such long poems as "The Faerie Queene," " Childe Harold's Pilgrim- age," etc. There are ig pages of Ballads, 33 of Spenser, 22 of Elizabethan Songs and Lyrics, 16 of Elizabethan Sonnets, 51 of Seven- teenth Century Songs, 51 of verse from Dryden to Thomson, 277 of verse from Thomson to Tennyson, and 100 of Victorian verse, 164 of Notes (chiefly biographical and appreciative), and an index of titles. New York Tribune: " We believe it will be received cordially by all lovers of poetry, whether elementary students or not. Basing his selections on the individual excellence and historic importance of the poems, the editor has not allowed his fidelity to the latter test to overrule his taste, and there is very little matter in-the book which is historically significant alone. First and last, this is an anthology of the best poetry." Prof. Henry A. Beers of Yale, author of " English Romanticism in the Eighteenth Century," etc.: " The collection seems to me in gen- eral made Avith excellent judgment, and the notes are sensible, help- ful, and not too weitlaufig." Prof. Albert S. Cook of Yale : "A thoroughly good selection, and the notes are judicious, so far as I have examined." Prof. William Hand Browne of Johns Hopkins: "The scope is amply wide, and the selections as judicious as was possible under the limitations. The notes, judging from a hasty glance, seem full and clear." Prof. Charles W. Kent of the University of Virginia : " Contains nearly all the poems I would wish in such a volume and very few that I would readily dispense with." Prof. James M. Dixon of Washington University: "It is just such a handy volume as can be made, by a sympathetic teacher, a companion to the scholar for life." HENRY HOLT & CO., ^Z^^Z^ll i 1900 Pancoast's Introduction to American Literature. By Henry S. Pancoast, author of " Representative English Literature," xii + 393pp. i6mo. $1.00. The primary aim is to help the pupil to approach certain typical works in the right spirit, and to understand and enjoy them. He is led to observe the origin and history of the literature and the forces which have helped to shape and develop it ; he is taught to regard literature as a part of national history, and to relate it to contemporaneous events and social conditions. He is made to take up the works suggested for study in their chronological sequence, and to note their relations to each other and to their time. In the sketches of the few leading writers selected for com- paratively extended treatment the effort is to avoid dry biographical details, and to present each author as a distinct living person. In the critical portion the object is rather to stimulate appreciation and lead the student to judge for him- self than to force opinions on him in a purely dogmatic spirit. J. M. Hart, Professor in Cornell University : — Seems to me to ac- complish exactly what it attempts; it introduces the reader carefully and systematically to the subject. The several chapters are well proportioned, and the tone of the entire work is one of kindly and enlightened sympathy. Edwin M. Hopkins, Professo r in the University of Kansas : — It seems to me fully entitled to take rank with his English Literature as a text-book, and I shall at once place it on my list recommended for high-school work. The Nation :— Quite the best brief manual of its subject that we know. . . . National traits are well brought out without neglect- ing organic connections with the mother country. Forces and movements are as well handled as personalities, the influence of writers hardly less than their in- dividuality, A. G. Newcomer, Professor in Leland Stanford University : — He succeeds in saying the just and needful thing without being tempt- ed beyond, and students of the work can hardly fail to obtain the right profit from our literature and the right attitude toward it. H. Humphrey Neill, Professor in Amherst College : — Having used Mr. Pancoast's book on English Literature for three years with my class, I know about what to ex- pect from the present volume, and am sure it will fill the place de- manded in the teaching of Amer- ican Literature which his other book so well fills in the teaching of English Literature. The Dial: — We find in the vol- ume now before us the same well- chosen diction, sobriety of judg- ment, and sense of perspective that characterized its predecessor. We should say that no better book had yet been produced for use in our secondary schools. PANCOAST'S INTRODUCTION TO ENGLISH LITERATURE By Henry S. Pancoast. 556 pp. i2mo. $1.25 net. " It asumes a study of and not about English literature; it assumes that one author differeth from another in glory and influence, and that in an introductory course only those of predominant influence can be studied." — Prof. E. E. Wentworth, Vassar College. " It treats of movements — is not merely a catalogue of names and a record of critical ratings. Not even the dullest pupil can study it without feeling the historical and logical continuity of English literature." — Nation. It describes the political and social conditions of the successive periods ; notes foreign as well as domestic in- fluences ; emphasizes the relations of literature to history. " Its criticism is of a kind to stimulate investigation rather than to supplant it." — A. J. George, Newton (Mass.) High School. The nineteenth centu/y, for the first time in such a book, receives its fair share of attention. In style it is "interesting," says Prof. Winchester of Wesleyan University (Conn.), " readable and stimulating," says Prof. Hart of Cornell, " interesting and sensible/' says Prof. Sampson of Indiana University, " attractive," says Prof. Gilmore of Rochester University, ''well writ- ten," says Prof. Czamo/nsha of Smith College. It is fully equipped with teaching apparatus. The "Study Lists" give references for collateral reading, and, in the case of the most suitable works, hints and sugges- tive questions. Comparative chronological tables, a literary map of England, and a plan of Shakespeare's London are included. HFNRY HOI T & CO 29 w - 23d st - KEW Y0RK 1 I L IN IX I nULl (X \^KJ , 373 Wabash Ave., CHICAGQ 11, 190Q TQH'