truth;
Till now the dark was worn, and overhead
The lights of sunset and of sunrise mix’d
In that brief night; the summer night,
that paused
Among her stars to hear us; stars that
hung
Love-charm’d to listen: all
the wheels of Time
Spun round in station, but the end had
come.
O then like those, who clench [4] their
nerves to rush
Upon their dissolution, we two rose,
There-closing like an individual life—
In one blind cry of passion and of pain,
Like bitter accusation ev’n to death,
Caught up the whole of love and utter’d
it,
And bade adieu for ever. Live—yet
live—
Shall sharpest pathos blight us, knowing
all
Life needs for life is possible to will—
Live happy; tend thy flowers; be tended
by
My blessing! Should my Shadow cross
thy thoughts
Too sadly for their peace, remand it thou
For calmer hours to Memory’s darkest
hold, [5]
If not to be forgotten—not
at once—
Not all forgotten. Should it cross
thy dreams,
O might it come like one that looks content,
With quiet eyes unfaithful to the truth,
And point thee forward to a distant light,
Or seem to lift a burthen from thy heart
And leave thee freer, till thou wake refresh’d,
Then when the first low matin-chirp hath
grown
Full quire, and morning driv’n her
plow of pearl [6]
Far furrowing into light the mounded rack,
Beyond the fair green field and eastern
sea.
[Footnote 1: As this passage is a little obscure,
it may not be superfluous to point out that “shout”
is a substantive.]
[Footnote 2: The distinction between “knowledge”
and “wisdom” is a favourite one with Tennyson.
See ‘In Memoriam’, cxiv.; ’Locksley
Hall’, 141, and for the same distinction see
Cowper, ‘Task’, vi., 88-99.]
[Footnote 3: Suggested by Theocritus, ’Id’.,
xv., 104-5.]
[Footnote 4: 1842 to 1845. O then like those,
that clench.]
[Footnote 5: Pathos, in the Greek sense, “suffering”.
All editions up to and including 1850 have a small
“s” and a small “m” for Shadow
and Memory, and read thus:—
Too sadly for their peace, so put it back
For calmer hours in memory’s darkest
hold,
If unforgotten! should it cross thy dreams,
So might it come, etc.]
[Footnote 6: ‘Cf. Princess’,
iii.:—
Morn in the white wake of the morning
star
Came furrowing all the orient into gold,
and with both cf. Greene, ‘Orlando Furioso’,
i., 2:—
Seest thou not Lycaon’s son?
The hardy plough-swain unto mighty Jove
Hath trac’d his silver furrows
in the heaven,
which in its turn is borrowed from Ariosto, ‘Orl.
Fur.’, xx., lxxxii.:—
Apena avea Licaonia prole
Per li solchi del ciel volto
L’aratro.]
