And there we saw Sir Walter where he stood,
Before a tower of crimson holly-oaks,
Among six boys, head under head, and look'd
No little lily-handed Baronet he,

A great broad-shoulder'd genial Englishman,
A lord of fat prize-oxen and of sheep,

A raiser of huge melons and of pine,

A patron of some thirty charities,

A pamphleteer on guano and on grain,

A quarter-sessions chairman, abler none;
Fair-hair'd and redder than a windy morn;

85

90

Now shaking hands with him, now him, of those
That stood the nearest-now address'd to speech-
Who spoke few words and pithy, such as closed
Welcome, farewell, and welcome for the

:

year

To follow a shout rose again, and made
The long line of the approaching rookery swerve
From the elms, and shook the branches of the deer
From slope to slope thro' distant ferns, and rang
Beyond the bourn of sunset; O, a shout

More joyful than the city-roar that hails

Premier or king! Why should not these great
Sirs

Give up
their parks some dozen times a year
To let the people breathe? So thrice they cried,
I likewise, and in groups they stream'd away.

But we went back to the Abbey, and sat on,
So much the gathering darkness charm'd: we sat
But spoke not, rapt in nameless reverie,

Perchance upon the future man: the walls

95

100

105

Blacken'd about us, bats wheel'd, and owls whoop'd, 110

And gradually the powers of the night,

That range above the region of the wind,
Deepening the courts of twilight broke them up

96. 1847-48. arose.

102-4. 1847-48.

Why don't these acred Sirs

Throw up their parks some dozen times a year
And let the people breathe?

108. 1847-48. Saying little.

113 seqq. Cf. Mariana in the South :

And deepening thro' the silent spheres
Heaven over Heaven rose the night.

Thro' all the silent spaces of the worlds,

Beyond all thought into the Heaven of Heavens.

Last little Lilia, rising quietly,

Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir Ralph

115

From those rich silks, and home well-pleased we went. 116. 1847-48. without sound.

MAUD

INTRODUCTION

TENNYSON never reprinted the beautiful poem of which Maud is the expansion, but a transcript of it, which I here give, is a necessary preliminary to a critical study of the longer poem. It appeared under the title of "Stanzas by Alfred Tennyson, Esq.,” and it runs thus :

Oh! that 'twere possible,

After long grief and pain,

To find the arms of my true-love

Round me once again!

When I was wont to meet her
In the silent woody places

Of the land that gave me birth,
We stood tranced in long embraces,
Mixt with kisses sweeter, sweeter,
Than any thing on earth,

A shadow flits before me

Not thou, but like to thee.
Ah God! that it were possible

For one short hour to see

The souls we loved, that they might tell us

What and where they be.

It leads me forth at Evening,

It lightly winds and steals

In a cold white robe before me,

When all my spirit reels

At the shouts, the leagues of lights,
And the roaring of the wheels.