a vhge arenee es be oe pRIghIe eV alebey sare neceet * - * oe THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY S82! Ww a2t The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its return to the library from which it was withdrawn on or before the Latest Date stamped below. Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books are reasons for disciplinary action and may result in dismissal from the University. To renew call Telephone Center, 333-8400 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN L161—O-1096 a” H < ’ Fins ae we ior ] Pa ey set LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS - URBANA — SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE. After a portrait painted in 1795. The Academy Classics THREE NARRATIVE POEMS COLERIDGE: THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER ARNOLD: SOHRAB AND RUSTUM TENNYSON: ENOCH ARDEN EDITED BY GEORGE A. WATROUS, A.M. REVISED BY A. B.*pE MILLE, A.M. SIMMONS COLLEGE, BOSTON ASTenyaNee AWN Dae CON BOSTON NEW YORK CHICAGO ATLANTA SAN FRANCISCO COPYRIGHT, 1898 AND 1924 BY GEORGE A. WATROUS NAI Norwood jpress J. 8S. Cushing Co. — Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass., U.S.A. PREFACE. THE purpose of this volume of the Academy Series is to offer in a single book the three narrative poems set by the New York Regents for a part of second-year English. It is believed that the nature of the poems readily admits such grouping, and that the combination will be a con- < venience for teachers and a saving for students. Schools on which offer only the reading required for entrance to =~ college, and would therefore need only The Ancient =i~ ~ Mariner, may find the present volume of advantage, in — that its use will permit the student to make comparison \S with other narrative compositions. The text has been // Dec 4/ carefully chosen in each instance. The editor gratefully acknowledges his obligations to « other workers in the same field. The plan of the book is shis own, but in the execution of that plan many sources Shave been freely drawn upon. The aim in the preparation ~of the notes has been to suggest to the student such other Sreading as will help him to interpret for himself the poem INTRODUCTION. Xxl1 ‘Hath man no second life? Pitch this one high! Sits there no judge in Heaven, our sin to see? More strictly, then, the inward judge obey ! Was Christ a man like us? AA, let us try If we then, too, can be such men as he! The least successful part of his poetry was his dramatic work. He wrote three dramas, following with great fidelity the Greek models. They were named: The Strayed Reveller, Empedocles on Hina, and Merope. But his genius was not adapted to this form of art. The poems contain some brilliant passages and some beautiful nature pictures, but they fail in the essen- tials —in plot, in character-drawing, and in the effec- tive control of action. Most of Arnold’s poetry, as we have seen, was written before he was forty; his work in prose criticism began in 1861 with the publication of his lecture aa as On Translating Homer. This was the first step in the conscious effort, continued through- out his life, to create higher standards both in thinking and in living. In presenting his ideas, he used what has been termed the method of criticism; that is, he devel- oped his thesis by comment, by suggestion, by per- suasion. Criticism was defined by him as ‘“‘the disin- terested endeavor to know and propagate the best that has been thought and said in the world.”’ To know the best in literature, one must make use of ‘‘touchstones”’ drawn from the great writers of the past ; only by a knowl- edge of the best can the mind be freed from narrow views and false judgments. To attain the best in life, one must seek culture — the ‘‘ideal of all-round perfection, of sweet- ness and light.”” The style in which these ideas are Dramas. XXll INTRODUCTION. formulated is singularly lucid and urbane; it is some- times marked by a pleasant kind of incisive irony which is very effective. Repetition is frequently employed to drive home a point, as may be seen in this passage about the Greek poets : “No other poets have lived so much by the imaginative reason ; no other poets have made their works so well balanced, no other poets have so well satisfied the thinking power; have so well satisfied the religious sense.”’ While his works were concerned primarily with problems of the time, yet they contain much of permanent value. = a The Essaysin Criticism, published in 1865, placed Literature him among the greatest contemporary essayists. pac JAE first, as in this volume, the subjects that at- tracted him were literary. He laid down principles of sound judgment and canons of good taste which were well illustrated by the classical dignity and simplicity of his own best work. But his conclusion that the highest type of poetry must be a “criticism of life’? came to imply not only artistic appeal but the deeper questions of ethics and morality. Thus, in Culture and Anarchy, which appeared in 1869, he attacked the narrowness and the false stand- ards of his fellow-countrymen, and pointed the way to higher ideals in life and thought. Other books which followed — Friendship’s Garland, Interature and Dogma, God and the Bible — carry on the fight against the weaknesses which he deplored in society, in politics, and in religion. Culture is a word that has come to have some unfor- tunate connotations; but with Arnold it signified nothing less than “‘the measure of the stature of the perfect man”; it embodied perfection, not only in things literary, but in all the varied reiations of “ Culture.’’ INTRODUCTION. XXill life. The reader of the present day finds a great deal that is timely, as well as stimulating, in the high thought and lucid expression of Arnold’s prose. The personal qualities of Matthew Arnold are justly estimated in the words of one who knew him well: “He was most distinctly on the side of human enjoyment. He conspired and contrived to make things pleasant. Pedantry he abhorred. He was a man of this life and the world. A severe critic of this world indeed he was; but, find- ing himself in it, and not precisely knowing what is beyond it, like a brave and true hearted man, he set himself to make the best of it. Its sights and sounds were dear to him. The ‘uncrumpling fern, the eternal moonlit snow,’ the ‘red grouse springing at our sound,’ the tinkling bells of the ‘high- pasturing kine,’ the vagaries of men, of women, and dogs, their odd ways and tricks, whether of mind or manner, all delighted, amused, tickled him. “Tn a sense of the word which is noble and blessed, he was of the earth earthy. His mind was based on the plainest possible things. What he hated most was the fantastic — the far-fetched, all-elaborated fancies, and strained interpretations. He stuck to the beaten track of human experience, and the broader the better. This is his true note.” An Esti- mate. This view may be supplemented by the opinion of John Morley, historian, critic, and discriminating friend: “He was incapable of sacrificing the smallest interest of any- body to his own; he had not a spark of envy or jealousy; he stood well aloof from all the hustlings and jostlings by which selfish men push on; he bore life’s disappointments — and he was disappointed in some reasonable hopes — with good nature and fortitude; he cast no burden upon others, and never shrank from bearing his own share of the daily load to the last ounce of it; he took the deepest, sincerest, and most active interest in the well-being of his country and his countrymen.” XX1V INTRODUCTION. CHIEF WORKS OF MATTHEW ARNOLD. Poetry : The Strayed Reveller, and Other Poems, 1849. Poems, 1853. This volume contained the famous Preface on poetry. Among the poems were Sohrab and Rustum, Requiescat, and The Scholar- Gypsy. Merope; a Tragedy, 1858. New Poems, 1867. Among the poems were Dover Beach, Rugby Chapel, and A Southern Night. Thyrsis, 1866. Prose : Essays in Criticism, 1865. Culture and Anarchy, 1869. Friendship’s Garland, 1871. Literature and Dogma, 1873. Discourses in America, 1885. Essays in Criticism, Second Series, 1888. ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. (1809-1892. ) ALFRED TENNYSON, the most representative and most popular poet of the nineteenth century, was born in August 1809 at the village of Somersby, Lin- Bere colnshire. In a family of twelve children he was the third of eight brothers, two of whom besides himself showed poetic genius. His early train- ing was received chiefly from his father, a man of excep- tional gifts and strongly marked characteristics. Dur- ing his boyhood he gave some indication of the great powers which afterwards developed. When still very young, he wrote a poem on the death of his grandmother, for which he received from his grandfather the present of INTRODUCTION. XXV half a sovereign ($2.50) with the remark: “That is the first money, my boy, you’ve made by poetry, and, take my word for it, it will be the last.”” At the age of twelve he composed a long epic in imitation of Scott, with which his father was much impressed. ‘‘If that boy dies,’’ said ne, ‘“‘one of our greatest poets will have gone.”’ Such early experimenting led to a poetical venture with his brother Charles, a little volume called Poems by Two Brothers, published in 1826. Their aim was _ pocket- money; poetic fame was a secondary consideration. The proceeds were spent on a tour round the churches of Lincolnshire. The poems were not marked by any special promise of future achievement; they did manifest, how- ever, an unusual freedom from youthful crudities. Alfred and Charles went up to Cambridge in 1828 and entered at Trinity College. Life at the University influ- enced the poet through the men he met and the friends he made more than through academic opportunities. There gathered about him as time went on a brilliant group of undergraduates, a number of whom afterwards won fame in various walks of life. His closest friend was Arthur Henry Hallam, son of the great historian. A man of high attainments, his influence upon Tennyson’s career was strongly marked. In his memory was composed the poem In Memoriam, one of the author’s greatest works. During the autumn of 1830, the two went to Spain to help the revolutionists in their struggle for freedom. ‘A wild time we had of it,” said Hallam; ‘‘I played my part as conspirator in a small way.” Nothing much was accomplished, however, ex- cept as the experience formed an outlet for the typical spirit of generous youth. University Career. XXVl INTRODUCTION. The growing poetic power of Tennyson was shown by}, his winning the Vice-Chancellor’s medal in 1829 with his} poem Timbuctoo, which in the opinion of good critics} manifested distinct promise. Later, in the year of the Spanish visit, he published his first independent volume — Poems, chiefly Lyrical. A volume by his brother Charles was issued about the same time, and the young authors must have been highly gratified by the testimony of Words- worth: ‘‘We have a respectable show of blossom in poetry — two brothers of the name of Tennyson; one in particu- lar not a little pleasing.’”’ Upon the death of his father in 1831, Tennyson left the university without proceeding to a degree. His next book, Poems (1832) may fairly be considered the precursor of a new school of poetry. Its charm of diction and the highly “detorative” beauty in which its thoughts were clothed were typical . of the Tennysonian style and plainly showed the trend of his genius. They revealed fresh and unsus- pected possibilities of English verse. Among the poems in the collection were The Lady of Shallot, The Lotus- Eaters, A Dream of Fair Women, and The Palace of Art. Charles Dickens was especially impressed by the lines” from A Dream of Fair Women: Poems, 1832. “Squadrons and squares of men in brazen plates, | Scaffolds, still sheets of water, divers woes, Ranges of glimmering vaults with iron grates, And hushed seraglios.”’ “What a relief,’”’ he cried, ‘‘in these days to come upon 2 man who can write!’? The remark may stand as an epitome of the opinion of discerning readers, for many felt that here at last was a worthy successor in the line INTRODUCTION. XXvll of the great English poets. On the other hand, some authorities handled the book severely, the criticism of the Edinburgh Quarterly being especially harsh. Tennyson was always sensitive to adverse criticism — though he usually profited by it — and the effect in this case was strong. About the same time, in yon Silent 1833, he also suffered the great grief of his life. Arthur Hallam his best-loved friend, died at ‘Vienna, whither he had gone in quest of health. For ten years the poet suffered much from depression of spirits, and published nothing. He lived chiefly in London dur- ing these ‘“‘silent years.’”’ But the time was by no means lost, for there he met Carlyle. The influence of the great Scotchman is to be traced in the graver and more philosophic spirit of the later poems — more particularly In Memoriam. Carlyle himself found in Tennyson “a true human soul, or some approximation thereto, to whom your own soul can say, Brother !”’ From his clear insight comes this memorable picture: “A great shock of rough, dusty-dark hair; bright, laughing, hazel eyes; massive aquiline face, most massive, yet most delicate; of sallow brown complexion, almost Indian-looking ; clothes cynically loose, free and easy; smokes infinite tobacco. His voice is musically metallic — fit for loud laughter and pierc- ing wail, and all that may lie between; speech and speculation free and plenteous; I do not meet in these late decades such company over a pipe. We shall see what he will grow to.” The period of silence ended in 1842 with the publication of Poems in two volumes, the first principally composed of poems which had already appeared, the second entirely new. Among the new poems were Ulysses, Locksley Hall, The Vision of Sin, and Morte D’Arthur. Their indubitable qualities of beauty and strength set the seal upon his XXVlll INTRODUCTION. reputation, and caused Wordsworth to write: ‘“‘ He is de- cidedly the first of our living poets.” Tennyson always referred to the year 1850 as ‘‘ Annus Mirabilis” — the wonderful year—and he had _ good Toca reasons for doing so. It was marked by the nus Mira- publication of In Memoriam, in some respects ed his greatest poem; his marriage to Emily Sellwood; and his appointment to the office of Poet Laureate. The post had fallen vacant upon the death of Wordsworth, and the choice of the Government met with universal approval. The year marked, moreover, the beginning of almost unbroken happiness and good (ortune. To very few writers has it been given to en- joy continuous critical and popular approval, and to retain to the last the full enjoyment of intellectual and artistic powers. We must not forget, however, that with his supreme poetic gifts was combined a strongly ‘‘human”’ personality. Indeed, the charm of his companionship was to those who knew him quite equal to the delight of his poetry. Retiring as was his disposition naturally, he nevertheless had friends in all walks of life, owing with- out doubt to his sincerity and his sympathetic breadth of mind. Besides the noteworthy comment of Carlyle, we have other interesting sidelights on the poet at various stages of his career. ‘‘It is very possible,’ writes a friend in 1842, ‘‘you may come across him in a country inn, with a foot on each hob of the fireplace, a volume of Greek in one hand, his meerschaum in the other, so far advanced towards the seventh heaven that he would not thank you to call him back to this nether world.” The American poet Bayard Taylor stayed with him at Friends. INTRODUCTION. Xx1x Farringford in 1857. “I was struck,” he says, ‘‘by the variety of his knowledge. Nota little flower on the downs escaped his notice, and the geology of the coast, both terrestrial and submarine, was perfectly familiar to him. I thought of a remark I once heard from a distinguished English author (Thackeray), that Tennyson was the wis- est man he knew.”’ Speaking of his personal appearance, Taylor wrote that he was ‘‘tall and broad-shouldered as a son of Anak, with hair, beard, and eyes of Southern dark- ness.”” Hawthorne thought him ‘‘as un-English as pos- sible,’ yet not American; ‘I cannot well describe the dif- ference, but there was something more mellow in him, softer, sweeter, broader, more simple than we are apt to be.” As we have seen, [n Memoriam appeared some seventeen years after the death of the friend whose death it com- memorates. During the intermediary period the poem developed from a personal lament to a broadly philosophic expression of the great issues of faith and doubt, and the supreme questions of death and immortality. In form it is a series of beautiful lyrics unified by the solemn central theme. Tennyson said: “It is rather the cry of the whole human race than mine. In the poem altogether private grief swells out into thought of and hope for the whole world. It begins with a funeral and ends with a marriage, begins with death and ends with promise of new life.... It is a very impersonal poem, as well as personal. There is more about myself in Ulysses, which was written under the sense of loss and all that was gone by, but that life must still be fought out to the end.’”’ The whole is a sort of soul-history, through sorrow and despair to sanity and In Memo- riam. xxx INTRODUCTION. hope; a progress not unlike the experience recorded in Carlyle’s Sartor Resartus. Two other of the longer poems — The Princess and Maud — were published respectively in 1847 and 1855. The former is a treatment half serious and half fantastic of the place of woman in the modern world. It contains The Prin. passages of great beauty, and some songs which cess,and areamong the most charming in the language. one In so far as any solution of the problem is offered (and the poem is an amusing tale altogether apart from the problem involved), it is offered by ‘‘emphasiz- ing for us the laws of nature which determine in their in- exorable fashion the place of man and the place of woman in any social system which is to endure.” Maud is a monodrama; that is, it represents the vary- ing moods of a single character. As its author said, successive phases of passion in one person take the place of successive persons. It contains the expression of some of his strong feelings; the lyrics scattered throughout show him at his best ; it was, taken all in all, his favorite poem. “I’ve always said,’’ was his own comment, ‘that Maud and Guinevere were the finest things I’ve written.” Best known of all his writings, perhaps, are the Jdylls of the King. The stories of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table comprise the most im- se ine portant body of myth and legend in English annals, and they early attracted his attention. The Lady of Shalott appeared in 1832. The general sub- ject, once revolved in his mind, strongly aroused and engaged his interest. By 1859 he published the first collection of Idylls — Guinevere, Enid, Vivien, and Elaine ; the fragment called Morte D’Arthur, which determined INTRODUCTION. XXX] the metrical form of the whole series, had been included in the Poems of 1842. Other Idylls were written at in- tervals up to 1888; by that time the entire group, having undergone many changes and revisions both in title and form, assumed the shape in which we know them today. In their final form the Jdylls comprise a group of twelve narrative poems loosely bound together by their general relation to the Arthurian legend. Broadly speaking, they tell of the coming of the King, the destruction of wrong and oppression throughout his realm, the gradual appearance of evil among his knights, the ‘“‘last great battle in the West,’’ and the passing of Arthur to the ‘island valley of Avilion.’”’ At the same time, each Jdyl is complete in itself, and the whole poem approximates the epic type. But Tennyson himself knew that the finished work did not possess the unity conferred by one strong central figure, as is characteristic of epic poetry. Hence, he chose a title which indicates the nature of what he tried to do. The result of his long endeavor was not an epic in the true sense of the word; it was rather a presentation of a group of noble episodes, a series of pictures of the high glory of past legend, of Final Form. “old, forgotten, far-off things, And battles long ago.”’ But this is by no means all that he aimed at. Behind the beauty of the poetry, the richness of the imaginative treatment, the loftiness of the thought, is a deeper meaning. The story is ‘‘new-old, and shadowing Sense at war with Soul.” Of the complete work, Tennyson said: ‘‘The whole is a dream of man coming into practical life and ruined by one sin. Birth is a mystery, and death is a mystery, and in the The Alle- gory. Oo b) INTRODUCTION. midst lies the table-land of life, and its struggles and per- formance.’”’ The allegorical element is seen especially in The Coming of Arthur and The Holy Grail. It must be con- sidered, however, as subsidiary to the narrative. The [dylls are fascinating tales, and to the average reader their chief interest will always lie in their romantic treatment of men and events, the beauty of their background of medieval chivalry, and the fine perfection of their technical form. The various phases of English country life interested Tennyson at all times, and he wrote a number of poems which he termed English Idylls. They differ ae tags. widely from the Idylls of the King, chiefly in their simplicity. They have a quiet and characteristic charm. Among the best are: Enoch Arden, which is dealt with at length in another place; Dora, The Brook, and The Muller’s Daughter. To compare these vignettes of real life with the philosophic thought of In Memoriam, the spirit of revolt depicted in Maud or Locks- ley Hall, or with the confession of faith found in The Ancient Sage, is to gain an adequate idea of the range of Tennyson’s power. About the year 1875, Tennyson became interested in the composition of dramas. For a considerable period this form of poetry deeply engrossed him. But the result was not happy. His versatility was immense, and in every other poetic field he won suc- cess; here, he could not command it. Between 1875 and 1884 he wrote a number of plays. Among them may be mentioned Harold, Becket, and Queen Mary, touching upon great epochs of English history, and The Foresters, a woodland drama founded on the Robin Hood legends. None of them, however, was marked by sufficient drama- The Dramas. INTRODUCTION. XX tic quality to hold the stage. Effective and beautiful in their language and their descriptive passages, they re- vealed no striking power of characterization, no com- mand of conversational brilliancy. The one gain from his experimenting in dramatic form was seen in some noble dramatic lyrics, in which his strong individualism and his sense of the picturesque enabled him to produce memorable effects. This is evident in the Ballads of 1880, where the dramatic feeling is expressed in a form wholly suited to his genius. We have the stirring appeal of ballads like The Revenge and The Defence of Lucknow, the grim pathos of Rizpah and The Sisters. The later poems, contained in Tirestas (1885), and Demeter (1889), show no trace of the intellectual de- terioration which so often is the sad accompa- niment of old age. The high seriousness of their outlook on life, and the full rich music of their verse, manifest the same noble qualities, set to a more solemn key, that had characterized the poet through all his long career. He died at Aldworth on October 6, 1892, crown- ing like his own Geraint, “‘a happy life with a fair death.” At the time there was actually in the press his last volume — The Death of Oenone, Akbar’s Dream, and Other Poems. In these poems the aged poet speaks of the meaning of life, the significance of death, of the need for a ‘‘faith beyond the forms of faith.’”’ Some lines from God and the Universe may well stand as his final message to the world : Lost Poems. “Spirit, nearing yon dark portal at the limit of thy human state, Fear not thou the hidden purpose of the Power which alone is great, Nor the myriad world, his shadow, nor the silent Opener of the Gate.” XXXiV INTRODUCTION. One or two other matters remain to be recorded. Ten. nyson had two places of residence after his marriage. One was the comfortable house at Farringford on the Isle of Wight, which he was very fond of and which is zommemorated in the lines, “|... far from noise and smoke of town, I watch the twilight falling brown All round a careless order’d garden Close to the ridge of a noble down. .. . ‘* For groves of pine on either hand, To break the blast of winter, stand; And further on, the hoary Channel Tumbles a billow on chalk and sand.”’ After 1867 he reserved Farringford for the winter, and spent the summer and autumn at Aldworth in Surrey, where he built a beautiful home—‘‘a handsome and commodious house,”’ one of his visitors called it, ‘‘in a most inaccessible place.’’ A very practical recognition of his literary fame was the peerage offered to him by Gladstone, at the time Premier, as a mark of the national esteem. He accepted the honor, somewhat reluctantly, in 1883. The most touching tribute to Tennyson was that written oy his friend and fellow-artist, Robert Browning. It was voiced in a letter written just before his Browning's own death in 1889, on the occasion of the Laureate’s eightieth birthday : ‘““My dear Tennyson : Tomorrow is your birthday, indeed a mem- orable one. Let me say I associate myself with the universal pride of our country in your glory, and in its hope that for many and many a year we may have your very self among us — secure that your poetry will be a wonder and delight to those appointed to come after. And for my own part, let me further say, I have loved you dearly. May God bless you and yours.” INTRODUCTION. XXXV CHIEF WORKS OF ALFRED TENNYSON. Poems by Two Brothers, 1826. Poems, 1832. Poems, 1842. The Princess; a Medley, 1847. In Memoriam, 1850. Maud, 1855. Idylls of the King, 1859. (Published in final form, 1888.) Enoch Arden, 1864. Queen Mary: a Drama, 1875. Harold: a Drama, 1876. Ballads and Other Poems, 1880. The Promise of May: a Drama, 1882. Becket, 1884. Tiresias, and Other Poems, 1885. Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, 1886. Demeter, and Other Poems, 1889. The Foresters, a romantic pastoral play, 1892. The Death of Oenone, 1892. A NOTE ON NARRATIVE POETRY. Poetry is usually divided into three classes: Lyric, Dramatic, and Narrative. Lyric poems deal in an emo- tional way with a single thought, feeling, or situation, and are generally short. Dramatic poetry comprises the great body of verse written primarily for presentation on the stage. Narra- tive poetry embraces the large group in which story- telling is the chief consideration. It has four divisions — the ballad, the epic, the romance, and the tale. Classes of Poetry. XxXxvl INTRODUCTION. The ballad is a poem which tells a story in the simplest | way. Ballads flourished principally in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The early examples — such as Sir Patrick Spens, The Wife of Usher’s Well, and the Robin Hood cycle — were anonymous. They were characterized by extreme simplicity of thought and diction, and by certain elements of the grim and the pathetic. Later came ballads of known authorship showing a more conscious art — Tom Bowling, Sally in Our Alley, Lord Ullin’s Daughter, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, etc. In these the ballad simplicity persists, and there is found frequently the grim or the pathetic note which is equally characteristic. When Coleridge wrote The Ancient Mariner, he de- liberately chose the ballad form as best suited to his story. Thesan. It nas all the marks of the true ballad: the cient Mar- simple metrical structure (modified now and sea again), the straightforward narrative method, the grim or pathetic touches. Coleridge added, of course, his own contribution — great melodic charm, and nature pictures of wonderful beauty. But in all essentials his poem is characteristic, and is one of the best illustra- tions of the type. The epic is a long poem, written in stately verse and dealing with episodes in the life of some god, hero, or The Epic: mythical figure, about whom the action centers. potreD and To this type belongs Sohrab and Rustum. Arnold called his poem an “‘episode’’; it is not a complete epic, but tells of one episode in the life of the great Persian hero, Rustum. At the same time, it evinces the epic form and spirit. The verse is dignified, the simile is freely employed, and the action centers The Ballad. INTRODUCTION. XXXVI about the life of Rustum. Moreover, the poem mani- fests the essential epic ‘‘objectivity’’ — the events of the story speak for themselves without any personal re- flections on the part of the author. The terms “romance”’ and ‘‘tale”’ are somewhat loosely employed. The former is used of a poem that is fabulous or romantic in tone, as Spenser’s Faerie Queene peeanee, or Scott’s Marmion. The latter designates stories like many of Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, or those contained in William Morris’s Earthly Paradise. Both forms are widely distributed in English literature. The tale is well represented by the third poem in this book, Enoch Arden. This is primarily a story, and moves definitely to a tragic conclusion. In the peace Ar- opinion of some critics, the simplicity of the narrative is unduly overlaid, by the elaborate beauty of language and imagery. Yet the Tennyson lover will be slow to admit that this emphasis on beauty in any way detracts from the general effect, and Enoch Arden will probably remain, among stories of English country life in poetical form, the most representative and popular. The reader would do well, in order to judge the range of the tale in narrative poetry, to compare Tennyson’s poem with Chaucer’s Knightes Tale, Long- fellow’s The Bell of Atri, and Masefield’s Right Royal. Two other forms may be included under the general head of narrative poetry. The “idyl” (‘‘idyll’’) is a “little picture,’ usually with a pastoral setting. Po Coeicy Examples are found in Milton’s L’ Allegro and Il Penseroso, and Burns’s The Cotter’s Saturday Night. Tennyson’s Idylls of the King are, of course, XXXVili INTRODUCTION. familiar to all. Didactic poetry, wherein the aim is to teach a lesson or to draw a moral, is also frequently narra- tive in form. A well-known illustration is Goldsmith’s Deserted Village. Narrative poetry possesses features of peculiar interest and comprises a literary division of wide extent and great importance. The three poems which have been included in this book afford sound examples of its general forms and tendencies. A careful study of these poems will direct the mind towards a keener appreciation of all good poetry. SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE ANCIENT MARINER. ‘g01Yy} Jo ou Yyoddo}4s OFF THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT IN SEVEN PARTS. Argument. MARINER. How a ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean ; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country. PART I Ir is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. “ By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp’st thou me ? “The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set : May’st hear the merry din.” He holds him with his skinny hand, “There was a ship,” quoth he. “ Hold off! unhand me, gray-beard loon!” Eftsoons his hand dropt he. He holds him with his glittering eye — The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years’ child: The Mariner hath his will. 10 15 An ancient Mariner meet- eth three Gal- lants bidden to a wedding- feast and detaineth one. The Wedding- Guest is spell- bound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and con- strained to hear his tale. The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the line. The Wedding- Guest heareth the bridal mu- sic; but the Mariner con- tinueth his tale. The ship driven by a storm toward the south pole. COLERIDGE. The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He eannot choose but hear ; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. “The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top. “The sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Went down into the sea. “ Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon —” The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon. The bride had paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy. The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear ; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. ‘ And now the Storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o’ertaking wings, And chased us south along. 20 26 30 35 THE ANCIENT MARINER. “ With sloping masts and dripping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. « And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wondrous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald. “ And through the drifts the snowy clifts Did send a dismal sheen: Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken — The ice was all between. “The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around: 45 55 60 It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound! “ At length did cross an Albatross, Thorough the fog it came ; As if it had been a Christian soul, We hailed it in God’s name. “Tt ate the food it ne’er had eat, And round and round it flew. The ice did split with a thunder-fit ; The helmsman steered us through! 65 70 The land of ice, and of fearful sounds where no living thing was to be seen. Till a great seabird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality. 4 And lo! the Albatross roved a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating ice. The ancient Mariner in- hospitably killeth the nious bird of jeood omen. His shipmates ery out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good lack. COLERIDGE. “ And a good south wind sprung up behind ; The Albatross did follow, And every day, for food or play, Came to the Mariners’ hollo! “In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, 75 It perched for vespers nine ; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white moon-shine.” ‘God save thee, ancient Mariner! From the fiends, that plague thee thus ! — 80 Why look’st thou so? ” —“ With my cross-bow I shot the Albatross. HgeWardk Vib ‘The Sun now rose upon the right ; Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left 85 Went down into the sea. ‘* And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners’ hollo! “And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work ’em woe: For all averred, I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow. ‘Ah wretch!’ said they, ‘the bird to slay, 95 That made the breeze to blow!’ . BUTYY YsI]oy B sup py | puy,, Stet FSS “Tnstead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.” THE ANCIENT MARINER. ‘Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. “Twas right,’ said they, ‘such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist.’ 100 (« The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, _ The furrow followed free ; y } \ We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. 105 “ Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, ’T was sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! 110 ‘ “AN in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. “Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship 115 \Upon a painted ocean. “ Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink ; 120 Nor any drop to drink. ee water, everywhere 5 But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime, The fair breeze continues ; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the line. The ship hath been suddenly becalmed. And the Alba. tross begins ta be avenged. A spirit had followed them; one of the in- visible inhabit- ants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels ; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantino- politan, Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or ele- ment without one or more. The ship- mates, in their sore distress would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird round his neck, ‘The ancient Mariner be- holdeth a sign in the element afar off. COLERIDGE. ‘The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs Upon the slimy sea. “ About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night ; The water, like a witch’s oils, Burnt green, and blue, and white. ‘¢ And some in dreams assuréd were Of the Spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us From the land of mist and snow. “ And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. “ Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young ! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung. PACKS LLL ‘There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! How glazed each weary eye, When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. 125 130 135 140 145 THE ANCIENT MARINER. 7 ‘ At first it seemed a little speck, And tken it seemed a mist; 150 It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. “ A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! And still it neared and neared : As if it dodged a water-sprite, 15% It plunged and tacked and veered. “ With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, At its nearer ’ approach, it We could nor laugh nor wail ; BeCuie ab ru) to be a ship ; Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! and at a dear , ransoin he I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 160 freeth his s : ; speech from And cried, ‘ A sail! a sail !’ the bonds of thirst. “ With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they hear me cal]: Gramercy! they for joy did grin, A flash of joy. And all at once their breath drew in, 165 As they were drinking all. “