Volume Iii Part 35 (2/2)
My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And starlike mingles with the stars.
When on my goodly charger borne Thro' dreaming towns I go, The c.o.c.k crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow.
The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o'er the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving hail.
I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o'er waste fens and windy fields.
A maiden knight--to me is given Such hope, I know not fear; I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven That often meet me here.
I muse on joy that will not cease, Pure s.p.a.ces clothed in living beams, Pure lilies of eternal peace, Whose odors haunt my dreams; And, stricken by an angel's hand, This mortal armor that I wear, This weight and size, this heart and eyes, Are touched, are turned to finest air.
The clouds are broken in the sky, And thro' the mountain walls A rolling organ harmony Swells up, and shakes and falls.
Then move the trees, the copses nod, Wings flutter, voices hover clear: ”O just and faithful Knight of G.o.d!
Ride on! the prize is near.”
So pa.s.s I hostel, hall, and grange; By bridge and ford, by park and pale, All armed I ride, whate'er betide, Until I find the holy Grail.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
TRUE KNIGHTHOOD.
But I was first of all the kings who drew The knighthood-errant of this realm and all The realms together under me, their Head, In that fair order of my Table Round, A glorious company, the flower of men, To serve as models for the mighty world, And be the fair beginning of a time.
I made them lay their hands in mine and swear To reverence the King, as if he were Their conscience, and their conscience as their King, To break the heathen and uphold the Christ, To ride abroad redressing human wrongs, To speak no slander, no, nor listen to it, To lead sweet lives in purest chast.i.ty, To love one maiden only, cleave to her, And wors.h.i.+p her by years of n.o.ble deeds, Until they won her; for indeed I knew Of no more subtle master under heaven Than is the maiden pa.s.sion for a maid, Not only to keep down the base in man, But teach high thoughts, and amiable words And courtliness, and the desire of fame, And love of truth, and all that makes a man.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
_From ”Guinevere,” The Idylls of the King._
GROWING OLD.
Grow old along with me!
The best is yet to be, The last of life, for which the first was made; Our times are in His hand Who saith ”A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust G.o.d: see all, nor be afraid!”
ROBERT BROWNING.
_From ”Rabbi Ben Ezra.”_
APPARITIONS.
Such a starved bank of moss Till, that May morn, Blue ran the flash across: Violets were born!
Sky--what a scowl of cloud Till, near and far, Ray on ray split the shroud: Splendid, a star!
World--how it walled about Life with disgrace Till G.o.d's own smile came out: That was thy face!
ROBERT BROWNING.
<script>