The poetical works of Alfred Tennyson. [Vol.8,9 are of the 1878 ed. With] The dramatic works [&c.]. |
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answer'd Lancelot arms art thou Arthur ask'd beauty behold blazon blood brake brother Caerleon call'd Camelot circlet court cried damsel death diamond door earth Elaine Ettarre Excalibur eyes face Fair lord farewell Fell into dust fire flash'd free love Galahad Gawain glory greatest knight Guinevere hall hand hath heard heart heaven Holy Grail horse jousts King kiss'd knew knighthood lady lance laugh'd Lavaine lily maid living look'd Lord of Astolat maid of Astolat maiden Marr'd Merlin merry maidens never noble o'er once past PATERNOSTER SQUARE Percivale pray pray'd prize Queen quest return'd rode rose saying seem'd seen shield Sir Bors Sir Galahad Sir Lancelot Sir Pelleas Sir Torre slay smile spake speak star Stept stood strong sware sword Table Round thee thine thou art thou hast thought thro tower turn'd vext vision walls wild ye know
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 35 - Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, Down on a bark, and overbears the bark, And him that helms it, so they overbore Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear Prick'd sharply his own cuirass, and the head Pierced thro' his side, and there snapt, and remaia'd.
Seite 25 - Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man Behind it, and so paints him that his face, The shape and colour of a mind and life, Lives for his children, ever at its best And fullest...
Seite 136 - Cover'd, but moving with me night and day, Fainter by day, but always in the night Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd marsh Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below Blood-red. And in the strength of this I rode, Shattering all evil customs everywhere, And past thro...
Seite 165 - ... Let visions of the night or of the day Come, as they will ; and many a time they come, Until this earth he walks on seems not earth, This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, This air that smites his forehead is not air But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — In moments when he feels he cannot die, And knows himself no vision to himself, Nor the high God a vision, nor that One Who rose again : ye have seen what ye have seen.
Seite 90 - Come, for you left me taking no farewell, Hither, to take my last farewell of you. I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death. And therefore to our Lady Guinevere, 1270 And to all other ladies, I make moan : Pray for my soul, and yield me burial.
Seite 108 - a nun, And one no further off in blood from me Than sister; and if ever holy maid With knees of adoration wore the stone, A holy maid ; tho' never maiden glow'd, But that was in her earlier maidenhood, With such a fervent flame of human love, Which being rudely blunted, glanced and shot Only to holy things ; to prayer and praise She gave herself, to fast and alms.
Seite 81 - Farewell, sweet sister,' parted all in tears. Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead, Oar'd by the dumb, went upward with the flood— In her right hand the lily, in her left The letter — all her bright hair streaming down — And all the coverlid was cloth of gold Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white All but her face, and that clear-featured face Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead, But fast asleep, and lay as tho
Seite 72 - ... puts an end to pain : I know not which is sweeter, no, not I. ' Love, art thou sweet ? then bitter death must be : Love, thou art bitter ; sweet is death to me. 0 Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 'Sweet love, that seems not made to fade away, Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, 1 know not which is sweeter, no, not I.
Seite 3 - Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat, High in her chamber up a tower to the east Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot ; Which first she placed where morning's earliest...
Seite 89 - Most noble lord, Sir Lancelot of the Lake, I, sometime call'd the maid of Astolat, Come, for you left me taking no farewell, Hither, to take my last farewell of you. I loved you, and my love had no return, And therefore my true love has been my death. And therefore to our lady Guinevere, And to all other ladies, I make moan. Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. Pray for my soul thou too, Sir Lancelot, As thou art a knight peerless.