work about Timbuctoo [subject of the Cambridge English Verse Prize for 1829]. I wrote it in a sovereign vein of poetic scorn for anybody's opinion, who did not value Plato, and Milton, just as much as I did. The natural consequence was that ten people out of twelve laughed, or opened large eyes; and the other two set about praising highly, what was plainly addressed to them, not to people in general. So my vanity would fain persuade me, that, like some of my betters, I "fit audience found, tho' few." My friend Tennyson's poem, which got the prize, will be thought by the ten sober persons afore mentioned twice as absurd as mine: and to say the truth by striking out his prose argument the Examiners have done all in their power to verify the concluding words "All was night." The splendid imaginative power that pervades it will be seen through all hindrances. I consider Tennyson as promising fair to be the greatest poet of our generation, perhaps of our century.' INDEX OF FIRST LINES Again at Christmas did we weave All along the valley, stream that flashest white Ask me no more: the moon may draw the sea PAGE 241 215 42 144 224 A still small voice spake unto me 60 At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay. 194 Banner of England, not for a season, O banner of Be near me when my light is low Birds in the high Hall-garden Break, break, break. Bury the Great Duke Calm is the morn without a sound Come into the garden, Maud 144 108 Come not, when I am dead Come, when no graver cares employ Comrades, leave me here a little, while as yet 'tis Could we forget the widow'd hour 'Courage!' he said, and pointed toward the land Deep on the convent-roof the snows Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters Dost thou look back on what hath been Do we indeed desire the dead Flow down, cold rivulet, to the sea Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song Half a league, half a league Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house I come from haunts of coot and hern I dream'd there would be Spring no more If one should bring me this report I had a vision when the night was late I have led her home, my love, my only friend I hear the noise about thy keel In her ear he whispers gaily In Love, if Love be Love, if Love be ours I read, before my eyelids dropt their shade 3 179 Is it, then, regret for buried time 226 I was the chief of the race-he had stricken my father dead 94 Lady Clara Vere de Vere 168 Late, late, so late! and dark the night and chill Love thou thy land, with love far-brought 191 My good blade carves the casques of men Now fades the last long streak of snow O Lady Flora, let me speak . O living will that shalt endure O love, what hours were thine and mine On either side the river lie. One writes, that 'Other friends remain O thou that after toil and storm Our doctor had call'd in another, I never had seen Peace; come away: the song of woe. Revered, beloved-O you that hold PAGE 79 227 146 243 105 133 170 134 228 124 154 232 38 223 I 242 Risest thou thus, dim dawn, again Sweet is true love tho' given in vain, in vain Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean The Danube to the Severn gave. 145 The plain was grassy, wild and bare ΙΟΙ 131 227 103 230 187 215 232 221 Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud 158 |
