XCIX.

This Poem is an address to the recurring anniversary of Hallam's death, which had before been commemorated in Poem lxxii.--

"Day, when I lost the flower of men."

The early signs of Autumn are very sweetly described, in personifying a day that will remind many of births and bridals, but still more of deaths; and wherever the sorrowing survivors may reside, they are on this day "kindred souls" with himself--though they be utter strangers--

"They know me not, but mourn with me."

This applies to all

"Betwixt the slumber of the poles,"--

from one end of the world to the other.

The poles of the earth are the ends of the axis on which the world revolves. These never move, but "slumber."

Autumn laying "a fiery finger on the leaves," is an expression similar to

"This maple burn itself away."--P. ci., 1.

"And the flying gold of the ruin'd woodlands drove thro' the air."

--"Maud," stanza 3.

C.

Rising from his night's rest shortly before quitting the old home, and looking over the familiar landscape, which his friend had known so well; there is not a feature but recalls some gracious memory of Hallam's presence.

The various objects in the surrounding country are enumerated, and present a beautiful rural picture to the mind; and he says,

"But each has pleased a kindred eye, And each reflects a kindlier day; And, leaving these, to pa.s.s away, I think once more he seems to die."

To take leave of them is to renew the more bitter separation.

In recent editions this poem commences "I climb the hill," instead of "I wake, I rise."

CI.

A sad reflection comes over him at the thought of bidding farewell to Somersby.

Unwatched and unloved will the flowers in the garden bloom with their fragrance, although the family be gone: and the trees will put forth, and afterwards shed their foliage. The rose-carnation, too, will

"feed With summer-spice the humming air,"

in which the bees are busy.

Uncared for, the brook will babble

"At noon, or when the lesser wain[72]

Is twisting round the polar star;"--

also when the sailing moon's reflection in the water becomes broken into silver arrows.[73]

All this will go on, until garden and wild become familiar to the succeeding stranger:

"And year by year our memory fades From all the circle of the hills."

Future generations will nevertheless visit Somersby, with something of the reverence that still attracts the stranger to Stratford-on-Avon.

CII.

"We leave the well-beloved place Where first we gazed upon the sky."

The mother, and the members of her family, quit what had been the Rectory, and seek a new home.

But, "ere we go," the Poet walks in the garden, and seems to be in the company of two spirits, who

"Contend for loving masterdom."

They do not represent persons, but the place with different a.s.sociations.

_The first is the love of the native place; the second, the same love enhanced by the memory of the friend._

The former pleads

"here thy boyhood sung Long since its matin song."

The rival affection urges

"Yea, but here Thy feet have stray'd in after hours With thy lost friend among the bowers, And this hath made them trebly dear."

Through half the day each one prefers a separate appeal by endearing circ.u.mstance; but the contest affords no superiority to either; and, as the Poet turns away from the illusion,

"They mix in one another's arms To one pure image of regret."

This picture is very beautiful.

CIII.

A dream is described,

"Which left my after-morn content;"

it imparted comfort.

The Poet seemed to be in a hall, where maidens were singing before a veiled statue--