The Alfred Lord Tennyson Fan Club - Page 4

Lotesse · 05-14-2005, 10:58 PM

here's a poignant one to savor...

After-Thought

I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide,
As being past away. -Vain sympathies!
For backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall not cease to glide;
The Form remains, the Function never dies;
While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish; -be it so!
Enough, if something from our hands have power
To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.

sun-star · 09-20-2005, 12:03 PM

I like this one, written at the same time as In Memoriam:

Break, break, break,
On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!
And I would that my tongue could utter
The thoughts that arise in me.

O well for the fisherman’s boy,
That he shouts with his sister at play!
O well for the sailor lad,
That he sings in his boat on the bay!

And the stately ships go on
To their haven under the hill;
But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand,
And the sound of a voice that is still!

Break, break, break
At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!
But the tender grace of a day that is dead
Will never come back to me.

Lotesse · 09-20-2005, 12:47 PM

Sun- Star, that one s tremendously elven, don't you think? I immediately think of the elves going home on the swan boat.

sun-star · 09-20-2005, 02:01 PM

I'd never thought of that before, but now you mention it... "stately ships" and the "haven under the hill" do sound very elven!

Lotesse · 09-20-2005, 02:05 PM

My absolute, all-time, very very favourite Tennyson poem:

Ulysses

It little profits that an idle king,
By this still hearth, among these barren crags,
Matched with and aged wife, I mete and dole
Unequal laws unto a savage race,
That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me.
I cannot rest from travel: I will drink
Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed
Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when
Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades
Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name;
For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known; cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honoured of them all;
And drunk delight of battle with my peers,
Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy.
I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough
Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnished, not to shine in use!
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things; and vile it were
For some three suns to store and hoard myself,
And this grey spirit yearning in desire
To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought.

This is my son, mine own Telemachus,
To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle -
Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil
This labour, by slow prudence to make mild
A rugged people, and through soft degrees
Subdue them to the useful and the good.
Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
Of common duties, decent not to fail
In offices of tenderness, and pay
Meet adoration to my household gods,
When I am gone. He works his work, I mine.

There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners,
Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me -
That ever with a frolic welcome took
The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
Free hearts, free foreheads -you and I are old;
Old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
Death closes all: but something ere the end,

Some work of noble note, may yet be done,
Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods.
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Though much is taken, much abides; and though
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

-Alfred, Lord Tennyson

sun-star · 09-20-2005, 02:13 PM

That's my favourite too. And he was only 24 when he wrote it

Lotesse · 09-20-2005, 02:15 PM

He WAS?!? Wow, I never knew that. That poem has had such an intense impact on me; I discovered it years ago, and memorised it right away. I remember reciting it to one of my best friends, years ago, and I could hardly finish speaking the poem it choked me up so much. There's something viscerally moving about what he says here, on a grand soulful level.

Lotesse · 09-27-2005, 01:22 AM

Tonight, I watched this 1968 Tony Richardson film "The Charge of the Light Brigade," which I really, really enjoyed. They used 670 horses for the charge. It stars Sir John Gielgud, and Vanessa Redgrave, among others. Just thought I'd mention it here!

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062790/

http://movies2.nytimes.com/gst/movie...tml?v_id=86974

hectorberlioz · 01-25-2006, 07:05 PM

Idylls of the King is on my list of next-to-reads...

I bought a very nice paperback awhile ago. Reading Ivanhoe right now...

Beren3000 · 01-31-2006, 02:48 AM

Idylls of the King are very well written. Enjoy!

Brian Fawcett · 02-03-2006, 11:52 PM

Does anyone know the name of that extremely popular-at-the-time novelist that Tennyson hated so much? Mrs Willman, or something like that? She apparently wrote quite a few very bad novels that sold in tremendous numbers, like a kind of 19th century Danielle Steel.

Lotesse · 02-04-2006, 12:05 AM

No, not at all. It couldn't have been Jane Austen, could it? Well, post it here when it comes to you, because now you've got ME wondering! Welcome 2 the Moot, by the way, Brian. Happy to see a new mooter!

05-14-2005, 10:58 PM	#61
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	here's a poignant one to savor... After-Thought I thought of Thee, my partner and my guide, As being past away. -Vain sympathies! For backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes, I see what was, and is, and will abide; Still glides the Stream, and shall not cease to glide; The Form remains, the Function never dies; While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise, We Men, who in our morn of youth defied The elements, must vanish; -be it so! Enough, if something from our hands have power To live, and act, and serve the future hour; And if, as toward the silent tomb we go, Through love, through hope, and faith's transcendent dower, We feel that we are greater than we know. __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

09-20-2005, 12:03 PM	#62
sun-star Lady of Letters Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Either Oxford or Kent, England Posts: 2,476	I like this one, written at the same time as In Memoriam: Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. O well for the fisherman’s boy, That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad, That he sings in his boat on the bay! And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill; But O for the touch of a vanish’d hand, And the sound of a voice that is still! Break, break, break At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. __________________ And all the time the waves, the waves, the waves Chase, intersect and flatten on the sand As they have done for centuries, as they will For centuries to come, when not a soul Is left to picnic on the blazing rocks, When England is not England, when mankind Has blown himself to pieces. Still the sea, Consolingly disastrous, will return While the strange starfish, hugely magnified, Waits in the jewelled basin of a pool.

09-20-2005, 12:47 PM	#63
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	Sun- Star, that one s tremendously elven, don't you think? I immediately think of the elves going home on the swan boat. __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

09-20-2005, 02:01 PM	#64
sun-star Lady of Letters Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Either Oxford or Kent, England Posts: 2,476	I'd never thought of that before, but now you mention it... "stately ships" and the "haven under the hill" do sound very elven! __________________ And all the time the waves, the waves, the waves Chase, intersect and flatten on the sand As they have done for centuries, as they will For centuries to come, when not a soul Is left to picnic on the blazing rocks, When England is not England, when mankind Has blown himself to pieces. Still the sea, Consolingly disastrous, will return While the strange starfish, hugely magnified, Waits in the jewelled basin of a pool.

09-20-2005, 02:05 PM	#65
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	Ulysses My absolute, all-time, very very favourite Tennyson poem: Ulysses It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Matched with and aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoyed Greatly, have suffered greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone; on shore, and when Through scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vexed the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honoured of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. I am a part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethrough Gleams that untravelled world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnished, not to shine in use! As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this grey spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus, To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle - Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfil This labour, by slow prudence to make mild A rugged people, and through soft degrees Subdue them to the useful and the good. Most blameless is he, centred in the sphere Of common duties, decent not to fail In offices of tenderness, and pay Meet adoration to my household gods, When I am gone. He works his work, I mine. There lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail: There gloom the dark broad seas. My mariners, Souls that have toiled, and wrought, and thought with me - That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads -you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honour and his toil; Death closes all: but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks: The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down: It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. -Alfred, Lord Tennyson __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

09-20-2005, 02:13 PM	#66
sun-star Lady of Letters Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: Either Oxford or Kent, England Posts: 2,476	That's my favourite too. And he was only 24 when he wrote it __________________ And all the time the waves, the waves, the waves Chase, intersect and flatten on the sand As they have done for centuries, as they will For centuries to come, when not a soul Is left to picnic on the blazing rocks, When England is not England, when mankind Has blown himself to pieces. Still the sea, Consolingly disastrous, will return While the strange starfish, hugely magnified, Waits in the jewelled basin of a pool.

09-20-2005, 02:15 PM	#67
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	He WAS?!? Wow, I never knew that. That poem has had such an intense impact on me; I discovered it years ago, and memorised it right away. I remember reciting it to one of my best friends, years ago, and I could hardly finish speaking the poem it choked me up so much. There's something viscerally moving about what he says here, on a grand soulful level. __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

09-27-2005, 01:22 AM	#68
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	Tonight, I watched this 1968 Tony Richardson film "The Charge of the Light Brigade," which I really, really enjoyed. They used 670 horses for the charge. It stars Sir John Gielgud, and Vanessa Redgrave, among others. Just thought I'd mention it here! http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0062790/ http://movies2.nytimes.com/gst/movie...tml?v_id=86974 __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe Last edited by Lotesse : 09-27-2005 at 02:03 AM.

01-25-2006, 07:05 PM	#69
hectorberlioz Master of Orchestration President Emeritus of Entmoot 2004-2008 Join Date: Jun 2003 Location: Lost in the Opera House Posts: 9,328	Idylls of the King is on my list of next-to-reads... I bought a very nice paperback awhile ago. Reading Ivanhoe right now... __________________ ACALEWIA- President of Entmoot hectorberlioz- Vice President of Entmoot Acaly und Hektor fur Presidants fur EntMut fur life! Join the discussion at Entmoot Election 2010. "Stupidissimo!"~Toscanini The Da CINDY Code The Epic Poem Of The Balrog of Entmoot: Here ~NEW! ~ Thinking of summer vacation? AboutNewJersey.com - NJ Travel & Tourism Guide

01-31-2006, 02:48 AM	#70
Beren3000 Fëanorophobic Join Date: May 2004 Location: Between the pages of a book Posts: 1,417	Idylls of the King are very well written. Enjoy!

02-03-2006, 11:52 PM	#71
Brian Fawcett Sapling Join Date: Feb 2006 Posts: 1	More on Tennyson Does anyone know the name of that extremely popular-at-the-time novelist that Tennyson hated so much? Mrs Willman, or something like that? She apparently wrote quite a few very bad novels that sold in tremendous numbers, like a kind of 19th century Danielle Steel.

02-04-2006, 12:05 AM	#72
Lotesse of the House of Fëanor Join Date: Apr 2005 Location: Los Angeles Posts: 6,150	No, not at all. It couldn't have been Jane Austen, could it? Well, post it here when it comes to you, because now you've got ME wondering! Welcome 2 the Moot, by the way, Brian. Happy to see a new mooter! __________________ Few people have the imagination for reality. ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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