"O mother, hear me yet before I die.

I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts Do shape themselves within me, more and more, Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother Conjectures of the features of her child Ere it is born: her child!--a shudder comes Across me: never child be born of me, Unblest, to vex me with his father's eyes!

"O mother, hear me yet before I die.

Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone, Lest their shrill happy laughter come to me Walking the cold and starless road of Death Uncomforted, leaving my ancient love With the Greek woman. [19] I will rise and go Down into Troy, and ere the stars come forth Talk with the wild Ca.s.sandra, [20] for she says A fire dances before her, and a sound Rings ever in her ears of armed men.

What this may be I know not, but I know That, wheresoe'er I am by night and day, All earth and air seem only burning fire."

[1833.]

There is a dale in Ida, lovelier Than any in old Ionia, beautiful With emerald slopes of sunny sward, that lean Above the loud glenriver, which hath worn A path thro' steepdown granite walls below Mantled with flowering tendriltwine. In front The cedarshadowy valleys open wide.

Far-seen, high over all the G.o.d-built wall And many a snowycolumned range divine, Mounted with awful sculptures--men and G.o.ds, The work of G.o.ds--bright on the dark-blue sky The windy citadel of Ilion Shone, like the crown of Troas. Hither came Mournful ?none wandering forlorn Of Paris, once her playmate. Round her neck, Her neck all marblewhite and marblecold, Floated her hair or seemed to float in rest.

She, leaning on a vine-entwined stone, Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shadow Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.

"O mother Ida, manyfountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

The gra.s.shopper is silent in the gra.s.s, The lizard with his shadow on the stone Sleeps like a shadow, and the scarletwinged [21]

Cicala in the noonday leapeth not Along the water-rounded granite-rock.

The purple flower droops: the golden bee Is lilycradled: I alone awake.

My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life.

"O mother Ida, manyfountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Hear me O Earth, hear me O Hills, O Caves That house the cold crowned snake! O mountain brooks, I am the daughter of a River-G.o.d, Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, A cloud that gathered shape: for it may be That, while I speak of it, a little while My heart may wander from its deeper woe.

"O mother Ida, manyfountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Aloft the mountain lawn was dewydark, And dewydark aloft the mountain pine; Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris, Leading a jetblack goat whitehorned, whitehooved, Came up from reedy Simois all alone.

"O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

I sate alone: the goldensandalled morn Rosehued the scornful hills: I sate alone With downdropt eyes: white-breasted like a star Fronting the dawn he came: a leopard skin From his white shoulder drooped: his sunny hair Cl.u.s.tered about his temples like a G.o.d's: And his cheek brightened, as the foambow brightens When the wind blows the foam; and I called out, 'Welcome Apollo, welcome home Apollo, Apollo, my Apollo, loved Apollo'.

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

He, mildly smiling, in his milk-white palm Close-held a golden apple, lightningbright With changeful flashes, dropt with dew of Heaven Ambrosially smelling. From his lip, Curved crimson, the full-flowing river of speech Came down upon my heart.

"' My own ?none, Beautifulbrowed ?none, mine own soul, Behold this fruit, whose gleaming rind ingrav'n "For the most fair," in aftertime may breed Deep evilwilledness of heaven and sore Heartburning toward hallowed Ilion; And all the colour of my afterlife Will be the shadow of to-day. To-day Hera and Pallas and the floating grace Of laughter-loving Aphrodite meet In manyfolded Ida to receive This meed of beauty, she to whom my hand Award the palm. Within the green hillside, Under yon whispering tuft of oldest pine, Is an ingoing grotto, strown with spar And ivymatted at the mouth, wherein Thou unbeholden may'st behold, unheard Hear all, and see thy Paris judge of G.o.ds.'

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

It was the deep midnoon: one silvery cloud Had lost his way between the piney hills.

They came--all three--the Olympian G.o.ddesses.

Naked they came to the smoothswarded bower, l.u.s.trous with lilyflower, violeteyed Both white and blue, with lotetree-fruit thickset, Shadowed with singing-pine; and all the while, Above, the overwandering ivy and vine This way and that in many a wild festoon Ran riot, garlanding the gnarled boughs With bunch and berry and flower thro' and thro'.

On the treetops a golden glorious cloud Leaned, slowly dropping down ambrosial dew.

How beautiful they were, too beautiful To look upon! but Paris was to me More lovelier than all the world beside.

"O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

First spake the imperial Olympian With arched eyebrow smiling sovranly, Fulleyed here. She to Paris made Proffer of royal power, ample rule Unquestioned, overflowing revenue Wherewith to embellish state, 'from many a vale And river-sundered champaign clothed with corn, Or upland glebe wealthy in oil and wine-- Honour and homage, tribute, tax and toll, From many an inland town and haven large, Mast-thronged below her shadowing citadel In gla.s.sy bays among her tallest towers.'

"O mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Still she spake on and still she spake of power 'Which in all action is the end of all.

Power fitted to the season, measured by The height of the general feeling, wis...o...b..rn And throned of wisdom--from all neighbour crowns Alliance and allegiance evermore. Such boon from me Heaven's Queen to thee kingborn, A shepherd all thy life and yet kingborn, Should come most welcome, seeing men, in this Only are likest G.o.ds, who have attained Rest in a happy place and quiet seats Above the thunder, with undying bliss In knowledge of their own supremacy; The changeless calm of undisputed right, The highest height and topmost strength of power.'

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

She ceased, and Paris held the costly fruit Out at arm's length, so much the thought of power Flattered his heart: but Pallas where she stood Somewhat apart, her clear and bared limbs O'erthwarted with the brazen-headed spear Upon her pearly shoulder leaning cold; The while, above, her full and earnest eye Over her snowcold breast and angry cheek Kept watch, waiting decision, made reply.

"'Selfreverence, selfknowledge, selfcontrol Are the three hinges of the gates of Life, That open into power, everyway Without horizon, bound or shadow or cloud.

Yet not for power (power of herself Will come uncalled-for) but to live by law Acting the law we live by without fear, And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom, in the scorn of consequence.

(Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.) Not as men value gold because it tricks And blazons outward Life with ornament, But rather as the miser, for itself.

Good for selfgood doth half destroy selfgood.

The means and end, like two coiled snakes, infect Each other, bound in one with hateful love.

So both into the fountain and the stream A drop of poison falls. Come hearken to me, And look upon me and consider me, So shall thou find me fairest, so endurance, Like to an athlete's arm, shall still become Sinewed with motion, till thine active will (As the dark body of the Sun robed round With his own ever-emanating lights) Be flooded o'er with her own effluences, And thereby grow to freedom.' "Here she ceased And Paris pondered. I cried out, 'Oh, Paris, Give it to Pallas!' but he heard me not, Or hearing would not hear me, woe is me!

"O mother Ida, manyfountained Ida, Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Idalian Aphrodite oceanborn, Fresh as the foam, newbathed in Paphian wells, With rosy slender fingers upward drew From her warm brow and bosom her dark hair Fragrant and thick, and on her head upbound In a purple band: below her lucid neck Shone ivorylike, and from the ground her foot Gleamed rosywhite, and o'er her rounded form Between the shadows of the vine-bunches Floated the glowing sunlights, as she moved.

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

She with a subtle smile in her mild eyes, The herald of her triumph, drawing nigh Half-whispered in his ear, 'I promise thee The fairest and most loving wife in Greece'.

I only saw my Paris raise his arm: I only saw great Here's angry eyes, As she withdrew into the golden cloud, And I was left alone within the bower; And from that time to this I am alone.

And I shall be alone until I die.

"Yet, mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Fairest--why fairest wife? am I not fair?

My love hath told me so a thousand times.

Methinks I must be fair, for yesterday, When I pa.s.sed by, a wild and wanton pard, Eyed like the evening star, with playful tail Crouched fawning in the weed. Most loving is she?

Ah me, my mountain shepherd, that my arms Were wound about thee, and my hot lips prest Close-close to thine in that quickfalling dew Of fruitful kisses, thick as Autumn rains Flash in the pools of whirling Simois.

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

They came, they cut away my tallest pines-- My dark tall pines, that plumed the craggy ledge High over the blue gorge, or lower down Filling greengulphed Ida, all between The snowy peak and snowwhite cataract Fostered the callow eaglet--from beneath Whose thick mysterious boughs in the dark The panther's roar came m.u.f.fled, while I sat Low in the valley. Never, nevermore Shall lone ?none see the morning mist Sweep thro' them--never see them overlaid With narrow moon-lit slips of silver cloud, Between the loud stream and the trembling stars.

"Oh! mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Hath he not sworn his love a thousand times, In this green valley, under this green hill, Ev'n on this hand, and sitting on this stone?

Sealed it with kisses? watered it with tears?

Oh happy tears, and how unlike to these!

Oh happy Heaven, how can'st thou see my face?

Oh happy earth, how can'st thou bear my weight?

O death, death, death, thou ever-floating cloud, There are enough unhappy on this earth, Pa.s.s by the happy souls, that love to live: I pray thee, pa.s.s before my light of life.

And shadow all my soul, that I may die.

Thou weighest heavy on the heart within, Weigh heavy on my eyelids--let me die.

"Yet, mother Ida, hear me ere I die.

I will not die alone, for fiery thoughts Do shape themselves within me, more and more, Whereof I catch the issue, as I hear Dead sounds at night come from the inmost hills, Like footsteps upon wool. I dimly see My far-off doubtful purpose, as a mother Conjectures of the features of her child Ere it is born. I will not die alone.

"Dear mother Ida, hearken ere I die.

Hear me, O earth. I will not die alone, Lest their shrill, happy laughter, etc.

(Same as last stanza of subsequent editions.)

[Footnote 1: Tennyson, as we learn from his 'Life' (vol. i., p. 83), began '?none' while he and Arthur Hallam were in Spain, whither they went with money for the insurgent allies of Torrigos in the summer of 1830. He wrote part of it in the valley of Cauteretz in the Pyrenees, the picturesque beauty of which fascinated him and not only suggested the scenery of this Idyll, but inspired many years afterwards the poem 'All along the valley'. The exquisite scene with which the Idyll opens bears no resemblance at all to Mount Ida and the Troad.]

[Footnote 2: Gargarus or Gargaron is the highest peak of the Ida range, rising about 4650 feet above the level of the sea.]