The poetical works of Alfred Tennyson. [Vol.8,9 are of the 1878 ed. With] The dramatic works [&c.].


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Seite 188 - In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours, Faith and unfaith can ne'er be equal powers: Unfaith in aught is want of faith in all. "It is the little rift within the lute, That by and by will make the music mute, And ever widening slowly silence all.
Seite 7 - For pleasure ; but thro' all this tract of years Wearing the white flower of a blameless life, Before a thousand peering littlenesses, In that fierce light which beats upon a throne, And blackens every blot...
Seite 8 - Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left. And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, Wherein the beast was ever more and more, But man was less and less, till Arthur came.
Seite 207 - Thou read the book, my pretty Vivien ! O ay, it is but twenty pages long, But every page having an ample marge, And every marge enclosing in the midst A square of text that looks a little blot, The text no larger than the limbs of fleas ; And every square of text an awful charm, Writ in a language that has long gone by.
Seite 5 - DEDICATION. THESE to His Memory — since he held them dear, Perchance as finding there unconsciously Some image of himself — I dedicate, I dedicate, I consecrate with tears — These Idylls. And indeed He seems to me Scarce other than my king's ideal knight, ' Who reverenced his conscience as his king; Whose glory was, redressing human wrong ; Who spake no slander, no, nor listen'd to it; Who loved one only and who clave to her...
Seite 178 - I have follow'd thro' the world, And I will pay you worship; tread me down And I will kiss you for it;' he was mute: So dark a forethought roll'd about his brain, As on a dull day in an Ocean cave The blind wave feeling round his long sea-hall In silence: wherefore, when she lifted up A face of sad appeal, and spake and said, 'O Merlin, do ye love me?
Seite 177 - Merlin, overtalk'd and overworn, Had yielded, told her all the charm, and slept. Then, in one moment, she put forth the charm Of woven paces and of waving hands, And in the hollow oak he lay as dead, And lost to life and use and name and fame. Then crying ' I have made his glory mine...
Seite 61 - Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm, and cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither love nor hate. ' Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel with smile or frown ; With that wild wheel we go not up or down ; Our hoard is little, but our hearts are great. ' Smile and we smile, the lords of many lands ; Frown and we smile, the lords of our own hands ; For man is man and master of his fate. ' Turn, turn thy wheel above the staring crowd ; Thy wheel and thou are shadows in the cloud ; Thy wheel and thee we neither...
Seite 42 - Who, moving, cast the coverlet aside, And bared the knotted column of his throat, The massive square of his heroic breast, And arms on which the standing muscle sloped, As slopes a wild brook o'er a little stone, Running too vehemently to break upon it.
Seite 227 - Of petulancy ; she call'd him lord and liege, Her seer, her bard, her silver star of eve, Her God, her Merlin, the one passionate love Of her whole life...

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