Hast thou look'd upon the breath Of the lilies at sunrise?

Wherefore that faint smile of thine, Shadowy, dreaming Adeline?

4

Some honey-converse feeds thy mind, Some spirit of a crimson rose In love with thee forgets to close His curtains, wasting odorous sighs All night long on darkness blind.

What aileth thee? whom waitest thou With thy soften'd, shadow'd brow, And those dew-lit eyes of thine, [2]

Thou faint smiler, Adeline?

5

Lovest thou the doleful wind When thou gazest at the skies?

Doth the low-tongued Orient [3]

Wander from the side of [4] the morn, Dripping with Sabsean spice On thy pillow, lowly bent With melodious airs lovelorn, Breathing Light against thy face, While his locks a-dropping [5] twined Round thy neck in subtle ring Make a 'carcanet of rays',[6]

And ye talk together still, In the language wherewith Spring Letters cowslips on the hill?

Hence that look and smile of thine, Spiritual Adeline.

[Footnote 1: This conceit seems to have been borrowed from Sh.e.l.ley, 'Sensitive Plant', i.:--

And the hyacinth, purple and white and blue, Which flung from its bells a sweet peal anew Of music.]

[Footnote 2: 'Cf'. Collins, 'Ode to Pity', "and 'eyes of dewy light'".]

[Footnote 3: What "the low-tongued Orient" may mean I cannot explain.]

[Footnote 4: 1830 and all editions till 1853. O'.]

[Footnote 5: 1863. A-drooping.]

[Footnote 6: A carcanet is a necklace, diminutive from old French "Carcan". Cf. 'Comedy of Errors', in., i, "To see the making of her 'Carcanet".]

A CHARACTER

First printed in 1830.

The only authoritative light thrown on the person here described is what the present Lord Tennyson gives, who tells us that "the then well-known Cambridge orator S--was partly described". He was "a very plausible, parliament-like, self-satisfied speaker at the Union Debating Society ".

The character reminds us of Wordsworth's Moralist. See 'Poet's Epitaph';--

One to whose smooth-rubbed soul can cling, Nor form nor feeling, great nor small; A reasoning, self-sufficient thing, An intellectual all in all.

Shakespeare's fop, too (Hotspur's speech, 'Henry IV.', i., i., 2), seems to have suggested a touch or two.

With a half-glance upon the sky At night he said, "The wanderings Of this most intricate Universe Teach me the nothingness of things".

Yet could not all creation pierce Beyond the bottom of his eye.

He spake of beauty: that the dull Saw no divinity in gra.s.s, Life in dead stones, or spirit in air; Then looking as 'twere in a gla.s.s, He smooth'd his chin and sleek'd his hair, And said the earth was beautiful.

He spake of virtue: not the G.o.ds More purely, when they wish to charm Pallas and Juno sitting by: And with a sweeping of the arm, And a lack-l.u.s.tre dead-blue eye, Devolved his rounded periods.

Most delicately hour by hour He canva.s.s'd human mysteries, And trod on silk, as if the winds Blew his own praises in his eyes, And stood aloof from other minds In impotence of fancied power.

With lips depress'd as he were meek, Himself unto himself he sold: Upon himself himself did feed: Quiet, dispa.s.sionate, and cold, And other than his form of creed, With chisell'd features clear and sleek.

THE POET

First printed in 1830.

In this poem we have the first grand note struck by Tennyson, the first poem exhibiting the [Greek: spoudaiotaes] of the true poet.

The poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn,[1]

The love of love.

He saw thro' [2] life and death, thro' [2] good and ill, He saw thro' [2] his own soul.

The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll,

Before him lay: with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame: The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed And wing'd with flame,--

Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue, And of so fierce a flight, From Calpe unto Caucasus they sung, Filling with light

And vagrant melodies the winds which bore Them earthward till they lit; Then, like the arrow-seeds of the field flower, The fruitful wit

Cleaving, took root, and springing forth anew Where'er they fell, behold, Like to the mother plant in semblance, grew A flower all gold,

And bravely furnish'd all abroad to fling The winged shafts of truth, To throng with stately blooms the breathing spring Of Hope and Youth.

So many minds did gird their orbs with beams, Tho' [3] one did fling the fire.

Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire.

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world Like one [4] great garden show'd, And thro' the wreaths of floating dark upcurl'd, Rare sunrise flow'd.

And Freedom rear'd in that august sunrise Her beautiful bold brow, When rites and forms before his burning eyes Melted like snow.

There was no blood upon her maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen eyes

And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM, a name to shake All evil dreams of power--a sacred name. [5]

And when she spake,