The icy strings, Singing, in dreary monotone, A Christmas carol of its own, Whose burden still, as he might guess, Was" Shelterless, shelterless, shelterless ! " 230 The voice of the seneschal flared like a torch As he shouted the wanderer away from the porch, 235 And he sat in the gateway and saw all night PART SECOND I There was never a leaf on bush or tree, 240 For the weaver Winter its shroud had spun ; A single crow on the tree-top bleak From his shining feathers shed off the cold sun; 245 Again it was morning, but shrunk and cold, No more on his surcoat was blazoned the cross, 255 But deep in his soul the sign he wore, The badge of the suffering and the poor. III Sir Launfal's raiment thin and spare 260 So he mused, as he sat, of a sunnier clime, And sought for a shelter from cold and snow 265 As over the red-hot sands they pass To where, in its slender necklace of grass, The little spring laughed and leapt in the shade, IV 270 "For Christ's sweet sake, I beg an alms; 275 V And Sir Launfal said, "I behold in thee 280 An image of Him who died on the tree; Thou also hast had thy crown of thorns, Thou also hast had the world's buffets and scorns, And to thy life were not denied The wounds in the hands and feet and side: Mild Mary's Son, acknowledge me; Behold, through him, I give to Thee!" 285 VI Then the soul of the leper stood up in his eyes He had flung an alms to leprosie, When he girt his young life up in gilded mail 290 295 He broke the ice on the stream let's brink, 'Twas a mouldy crust of coarse brown bread, 'Twas water out of a wooden bowl, Yet with fine wheaten bread was the leper fed, 300 VII As Sir Launfal mused with a downcast face, A light shone round about the place; The leper no longer crouched at his side, Shining and tall and fair and straight As the pillar that stood by the Beautiful Gate, - Enter the temple of God in Man. VIII -305 His words were shed softer than leaves from the pine, 310 And they fell on Sir Launfal as snows on the brine, That mingle their softness and quiet in one With the shaggy unrest they float down upon; And the voice that was calmer than silence said, "Lo it is I, be not afraid! In many climes, without avail, Thou hast spent thy life for the Holy Grail; 315 Behold, it is here, this cup which thou Didst fill at the streamlet for Me but now; This crust is My body broken for thee, In whatso we share with another's need: IX Sir Launfal awoke as from a swound: - X The castle gate stands open now, And the wanderer is welcome to the hall As the hangbird is to the elm-tree bough; No longer scowl the turrets tall, The Summer's long siege at last is o'er; When the first poor outcast went in at the door, And mastered the fortress by surprise; There is no spot she loves so well on ground, round; 320 325 330 335 340 The meanest serf on Sir Launfal's land 345 And there's no poor men in the North Countree TENNYSON'S IDYLLS OF THE KING In Professor Maccallum's valuable book on Tennyson's Idylls of the King and Arthurian Story we read: "In the Idylls is probably to be found the finest development that the cycle of Arthurian story has yet attained, or will for long attain. Perhaps it might even be said that they deliver the classic version of that story as a whole, and present it in the highest perfection of which it is capable. It may be maintained that its peculiar merits and defects correspond so closely with the inherent limitations and excellencies of Tennyson's genius that in him it found its unique predestined interpreter." Let us examine into the manner in which the poet serves as the nineteenth-century interpreter of medieval chivalry. Though Tennyson goes directly to Malory for his story, he exercises throughout the Idylls an artist's privilege of departing from the original whenever such departure seems to be to the advantage of his poem. There is no doubt that the subject of the legend appealed to the poet, largely on account of the moral significance which he was able to read out of it or infuse into it. Not that it is at all necessary or wise to regard the whole poem as an allegory, as some critics have tried to do, with each separate character or incident standing as the symbol of some abstract truth. Such a view of the Idylls would detract greatly from their simple epic interest. Still, in a general way, no doubt the motif underlying them, as Tennyson himself has said, is to depict "Sense at war with Soul.” The guilty love of Lancelot and the Queen stands out as the main thread of the plot. In every one of the Idylls the blighting influence of their sin is felt. The conflict between evil and good is everywhere prominent. But though the Round Table is at last dissolved, the spiritual nobility of the king towers above the littleness and evil that surround him. We feel with Dr. van Dyke, "His life is not a failure, but a glorious success; for it demonstrates the freedom of the will and the strength of the soul against the powers of evil and the fate of sin.” Tennyson's interest in the Arthurian legend is seen as early as 1832, when in The Lady of Shalott he foreshadowed, in lyrical form, the theme afterward enlarged and modified into Lancelot and Elaine. Ten years later the Morte d'Arthur was published — a poem which later still, in unchanged form, appeared as the main portion of the Passing of Arthur, the last of the idylls. But the plan of the whole series was, then, evidently not yet conceived; and it was not till 1859 that the four idylls were published which formed its first instalment. In 1869 four more were published; afterward, at scattered intervals, still others, the last not appearing till 1885 - more than half a century after The Lady of Shalott. |