Idylls of the King
Page 2
Herbert Marshall McLuhan, ‘Tennyson and Picturesque Poetry’ and ‘Tennyson and the Romantic Epic’, in J. Killham (ed.), Critical Essays on the Poetry of Tennyson, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960.
Howard Maynadier, The Arthur of the English Poets, Houghton Mifflin, 1907.
Walter Nash, ‘The Poetics of Idyll’, unpublished doctoral thesis, Nottingham, 1972.
‘Tennyson: “The Epic” and the Old “Morte”’, Cambridge Quarterly VI (‘975). 326–49.
Leonée Ormond, Alfred Tennyson: A Literary Life, St Martin’s Press Inc.,1993.
Robert Pattison, Tennyson and Tradition, Harvard University Press, 1979.
Timothy Peltason, ‘Learning How to See: The Holy Grail’, Victorian Poetry XXX (1992), 463–81.
Valerie Pitt, Tennyson Laureate, Barrie & Rockliff, 1962.
Arthur Pollard (ed.), The Penguin History of Literature, Vol. 6: The Victorians, Penguin Books, 1993.
Lawrence Poston, ‘“Pelleas and Ettarre”: Tennyson’s “Troilus”’, Victorian Poetry IV (1966), 199–204.
F. E. L. Priestley, ‘Tennyson’s Idylls’, in J. Killham (ed.), Critical Essays on the Poetry of Tennyson, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1960.
Language and Structure in Tennyson’s Poetry, Deutsch, 1973.
John R. Reed, Perception and Design in Tennyson’s ‘Idylls of the King’, Ohio University Press, 1970.
‘Tennyson’s Magic Casements’, Victorian Poetry XXX (1992), 211–27.
Christopher Ricks, Tennyson, Macmillan, 1972.
Adam Roberts, ‘“The star within the mere”: Tennyson’s “Gareth and Lynette”’, Victorian Poetry XXXII (1994), 463–81.
John D. Rosenberg, The Fall of Camelot, Harvard University Press, 1973.
Clyde de L. Ryals, From the Great Dep: Essays on ‘Idylls of the King’, Ohio University Press, 1967.
W. David Shaw, Tennyson’s Style, Cornell University Press, 1977.
Linda M. Shires, ‘Patriarchy, Dead Men, and Tennyson’s Idylls of the King’, Victorian Poetry XXX (1992), 401–19.
A. L. Simpson, ‘Elaine the Unfair, Elaine the Unlovable: The Socially Destructive Artist/Woman in Idylls of the King’, Journal of Modem Philology LXXXIX (1992), 341–62.
Alan Sinfield, Alfred Tennyson, Oxford University Press, 1986.
E. W. Slinn, ‘Deception and Artifice in “Idylls of the King” ’, Victorian Poetry XI (1973), 1–14.
Stanley J. Solomon, ‘Tennyson’s Paradoxical King’, Victorian Poetry I (1963). 258–71.
David Staines, ‘Tennyson’s “The Holy Grail”: The Tragedy of Percivale’, Modern Language Review LXIX (1974), 745–56.
‘The Prose Drafts of Tennyson’s Idylls of the King’, Harvard Library Bulletin XXII (1974), 280–308.
Tennyson’s Camelot, Wilfrid Laurier University Press, 1982.
Beverley Taylor and Elisabeth Brewer, The Return of King Arthur, Cambridge University Press and Barnes and Noble, 1983.
Sir Charles Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Macmillan, 1949.
Six Tennyson Essays, Cassell, 1954.
Hallam, Lord Tennyson, Alfred Lord Tennyson: A Memoir, 2 vols., Macmillan, 1897.
Alastair W. Thomson, The Poetry of Tennyson, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1986.
Kathleen Tillotson, ‘Tennyson’s Serial Poem’, Mid-Victorian Studies, Athlone Press, 1965.
Herbert F.Tucker, Tennyson and the Doom of Romanticism, Harvard University Press, 1988.
‘The Epic Plight of Troth in Idylls of the King’, ELH LVIII (1991), 701–20.
Paul Turner, Tennyson, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1976.
R. B. Wilkenfeld, ‘Tennyson’s Camelot: The Kingdom of Folly’, University of Toronto Quarterly XXXVII (1968), 281–94.
IDYLLS OF THE KING
Dedication
These to His Memory – since he held them dear,
Perchance as finding there unconsciously
Some image of himself – I dedicate,
I dedicate, I consecrate with tears –
5 These Idylls.
And indeed He seems to me
Scarce other than my king’s ideal knight,
‘Who reverenced his conscience as his king;
Whose glory was, redressing human wrong;
Who spake no slander, no, nor listen’d to it;
10 Who loved one only and who clave to her
Her – over all whose realms to their last isle,
Commingled with the gloom of imminent war,
The shadow of His loss drew like eclipse,
Darkening the world. We have lost him: he is gone:
15 We know him now: all narrow jealousies
Are silent; and we see him as he moved,
How modest, kindly, all-accomplish’d, wise,
With what sublime repression of himself,
And in what limits, and how tenderly;
20 Not swaying to this faction or to that;
Not making his high place the lawless perch
of wing’d ambitions, nor a vantage-ground
For pleasure; but thro’ all this tract of years
Wearing the white flower of a blameless life,
25 Before a thousand peering littlenesses,
In that fierce light which beats upon a throne,
And blackens every blot: for where is he,
Who dares foreshadow for an only son
A lovelier life, a more unstain’d, than his?
30 Or how should England dreaming of his sons
Hope more for these than some inheritance
Of such a life, a heart, a mind as thine,
Thou noble Father of her Kings to be,
Laborious for her people and her poor –
35 Voice in the rich dawn of an ampler day –
Far-sighted summoner of War and Waste
To fruitful strifes and rivalries of peace –
Sweet nature gilded by the gracious gleam
of letters, dear to Science, dear to Art,
40 Dear to thy land and ours, a Prince indeed,
Beyond all titles, and a household name,
Hereafter, thro’ all times, Albert the Good.
Break not, O woman’s-heart, but still endure;
Break not, for thou art Royal, but endure,
45 Remembering all the beauty of that star
Which shone so close beside Thee that ye made
One light together, but has past and leaves
The Crown a lonely splendour.
May all love,
His love, unseen but felt, o’ershadow Thee,
50 The love of all Thy sons encompass Thee,
The love of all Thy daughters cherish Thee,
The love of all Thy people comfort Thee,
Till God’s love set Thee at his side again!
The Coming of Arthur
Leodogran, the King of Cameliard,
Had one fair daughter, and none other child;
And she was fairest of all flesh on earth,
Guinevere, and in her his one delight.
5 For many a petty king ere Arthur came
Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war
Each upon other, wasted all the land;
And still from time to time the heathen host
Swarm’d overseas, and harried what was left.
10 And so there grew great tracts of wilderness,
Wherein the beast was ever more and more,
But man was less and less, till Arthur came.
For first Aurclius lived and fought and died,
And after him King Uther fought and died,
15 But either fail’d to make the kingdom one.
And after these King Arthur for a space,
And thro’ the puissance of his Table Round,
Drew all their petty princedoms under him,
Their king and head, and made a realm, and reign’d.
20 And thus the land of Cameliard was waste,
Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein,
And none or few to scare or chase th
e beast;
So that wild dog, and wolf and boar and bear
Came night and day, and rooted in the fields,
25 And wallow’d in the gardens of the King.
And ever and anon the wolf would steal
The children and devour, but now and then,
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat
To human sucklings; and the children, housed
30 In her foul den, there at their meat would growl,
And mock their foster-mother on four feet,
Till, straighten’d, they grew up to wolf-like men,
Worse than the wolves. And King Leodogran
Groan’d for the Roman legions here again,
35 And Cæsar’s eagle: then his brother king,
Urien, assail’d him: last a heathen horde,
Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood,
And on the spike that split the mother’s heart
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed,
40 He knew not whither he should turn for aid.
But – for he heard of Arthur newly crown’d,
Tho’ not without an uproar made by those
Who cried, ‘He is not Uther’s son’ – the King
Sent to him, saying, ‘Arise, and help us thou!
45 For here between the man and beast we die.’
And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms,
But heard the call, and came: and Guinevere
Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass;
But since he neither wore on helm or shield
50 The golden symbol of his kinglihood,
But rode a simple knight among his knights,
And many of these in richer arms than he,
She saw him not, or mark’d not, if she saw,
One among many, tho’ his face was bare.
55 But Arthur, looking downward as he past,
Felt the light of her eyes into his life
Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch’d
His tents beside the forest. Then he drave
The heathen; after, slew the beast, and fell’d
60 The forest, letting in the sun, and made
Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight
And so return’d.
For while he linger’d there,
A doubt that ever smoulder’d in the hearts
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm
65 Flash’d forth and into war: for most of these,
Colleaguing with a score of petty kings,
Made head against him, crying, ‘Who is he
That he should rule us? who hath proven him
King Uther’s son? for lo! we look at him,
70 And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice,
Are like to those of Uther whom we knew.
This is the son of Gorloïs, not the King;
This is the son of Anton, not the King.’
And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt
75 Travail, and throes and agonies of the life,
Desiring to be join’d with Guinevere;
And thinking as he rode, ‘Her father said
That there between the man and beast they die.
Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts
80 Up to my throne, and side by side with me?
What happiness to reign a lonely king,
Vext – O ye stars that shudder over me,
O earth that soundest hollow under me,
Vext with waste dreams? for saving I be join’d
85 To her that is the fairest under heaven,
I seem as nothing in the mighty world,
And cannot will my will, nor work my work
Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm
Victor and lord. But were I join’d with her,
90 Then might we live together as one life,
And reigning with one will in everything
Have power on this dark land to lighten it,
And power on this dead world to make it live.’
Thereafter – as he speaks who tells the tale –
95 When Arthur reach’d a field-of-battle bright
With pitch’d pavilions of his foe, the world
Was all so clear about him, that he saw
The smallest rock far on the faintest hill,
And even in high day the morning star.
100 So when the King had set his banner broad,
At once from either side, with trumpet-blast,
And shouts, and clarions shrilling unto blood,
The long-lanced battle let their horses run.
And now the Barons and the kings prevail’d,
105 And now the King, as here and there that war
Went swaying; but the Powers who walk the world
Made lightnings and great thunders over him,
And dazed all eyes, till Arthur by main might,
And mightier of his hands with every blow,
110 And leading all his knighthood threw the kings
Carádos, Urien, Cradlemont of Wales,
Claudias, and Clariance of Northumberland,
The King Brandagoras of Latangor,
With Anguisant of Erin, Morganore,
115 And Lot of Orkney. Then, before a voice
As dreadful as the shout of one who sees
To one who sins, and deems himself alone
And all the world asleep, they swerved and brake
Flying, and Arthur call’d to stay the brands
120 That hack’d among the flyers, ‘Ho! they yield!’
So like a painted battle the war stood
Silenced, the living quiet as the dead,
And in the heart of Arthur joy was lord.
He laugh’d upon his warrior whom he loved
125 And honour’d most. ‘Thou dost not doubt me King,
So well thine arm hath wrought for me to-day.
‘Sir and my liege,’ he cried, ‘the fire of God
Descends upon thee in the battle-field:
I know thee for my King!’ Whereat the two,
130 For each had warded either in the fight,
Sware on the field of death a deathless love.
And Arthur said, ‘Man’s word is God in man:
Let chance what will, I trust thee to the death.’
Then quickly from the foughten field he sent
135 Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere,
His new-made knights, to King Leodogran,
Saying, ‘If I in aught have served thee well,
Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife.’
Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart:
140 Debating – ‘How should I that am a king,
However much he holp me at my need,
Give my one daughter saving to a king,
And a king’s son?’ – lifted his voice, and call’d
A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom
145 He trusted all things, and of him required
His counsel: ‘Knowest thou aught of Arthur’s birth?’
Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said,
‘Sir King, there be but two old men that know:
And each is twice as old as I; and one
150 Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served
King Uther thro’ his magic art; and one
Is Merlin’s master (so they call him) Bleys,
Who taught him magic; but the scholar ran
Before the master, and so far, that Bleys
155 Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote
All things and whatsoever Merlin did
In one great annal-book, where after-years
Will learn the secret of our Arthur’s birth.’
160 To whom the King Leodogran replied,
‘O friend, had I been holpen half as well
By this King Arthur as by thee to-day,
Then beast and man had had their share of me:
But s
ummon here before us yet once more
Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere.’
165 Then, when they came before him, the King said,
‘I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl,
And reason in the chase: but wherefore now
Do these your lords stir up the heat of war,
Some calling Arthur born of Gorloïs,
170 Others of Anton? Tell me, ye yourselves,
Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther’s son?’
And Ulfius and Brastias answer’d, ‘Ay.’
Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights
Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake –
175 For bold in heart and act and word was he,
Whenever slander breathed against the King –
‘Sir, there be many rumours on this head:
For there be those who hate him in their hearts,
Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet,
180 And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man:
And there be those who deem him more than man,
And dream he dropt from heaven: but my belief
In all this matter – so ye care to learn –
Sir, for ye know that in King Uther’s time
185 The prince and warrior Gorloïs, he that held
Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea,
Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne:
And daughters had she borne him, – one whereof,
Lot’s wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent,
190 Hath ever like a loyal sister cleaved
To Arthur, – but a son she had not borne.
And Uther cast upon her eyes of love:
But she, a stainless wife to Gorloïs,
So loathed the bright dishonour of his love,
195 That Gorloïs and King Uther went to war:
And overthrown was Gorloïs and slain.
Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged
Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men,
Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls,
200 Left her and fled, and Uther enter’d in,
And there was none to call to but himself.
So, compass’d by the power of the King,
Enforced she was to wed him in her tears,
And with a shameful swiftness: afterward,
205 Not many moons, King Uther died himself,
Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule
After him, lest the realm should go to wrack.
And that same night, the night of the new year,
By reason of the bitterness and grief
210 That vext his mother, all before his time