File:The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson (1899) (14597970079).jpg

Identifier: poeticdramaticwo01tenn (find matches)
Title: The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson
Year: 1899 (1890s)
Authors: Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron, 1809-1892
Subjects:
Publisher: Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin and company
Contributing Library: The Library of Congress
Digitizing Sponsor: The Library of Congress

View Book Page: Book Viewer
About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Images From Book
Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book.

Text Appearing Before Image:
e yefear The monkish manhood, and the maskof pure Worn by this court, can stir them tillthey sting. And Vivien answerd, smiling scorn-fully:Why fear? because that fosterd at thy courtI savor of thy — virtues? fear them? no,As love, if love be perfect, casts out fear, 40 So hate, if hate be perfect, casts out fear.My father died in battle against the King,My mother on his corpse in open field ;She bore me there, for born from death was I MERLIN AND VIVIEN 469 Among the dead and sown upon the wind —And then on thee! and shown the truth betimes,That old true filth, and bottom of the well,Where Truth is hidden. Gracious lessons thine,And maxims of the mud ! This Arthur pure !Great Nature thro the flesh herself hath made 50 Gives him the lie ! There is no beingpure, My cherub; saith not Holy Writ thesame ? — If I were Arthur, I would have thyblood. Thy blessing, stainless King ! I bringthee back, When I have ferreted out their bur-rowings, The hearts of all this Order in minehand —
Text Appearing After Image:
4 At Merlins feet the wily Vivien lay 47° IDYLLS OF THE KING Ay — so that fate and craft and folly close,Perchance, one curl of Arthurs golden beard.To me this narrow grizzled fork of thineIs cleaner-fashiond — Well, I loved thee first; 60 That warps the wit. Loud laughd the graceless Mark.But Vivien, into Camelot stealing, lodgedLow in the city, and on a festal dayWhen Guinevere was crossing the great hallCast herself down, knelt to the Queen, and waild. Why kneel ye there? What evil have ye wrought ?Rise! and the damsel bidden rise aroseAnd stood with folded hands and downward eyesOf glancing corner and all meekly said:None wrought, but sufferd much, an orphan maid ! 70 My father died in battle for thy King,My mother on his corpse — in open field,The sad sea-sounding wastes of Lyon- nesse —Poor wretch — no friend ! — and now by Mark the king,For that small charm of feature mine, pursued —If any such be mine — I fly to thee.Save, save me thou! Woman of wo-men — thi

Note About Images