She told me all her friends had said;
I raged against the public liar.
She talked as if her love were dead;

But in my words were seeds of fire.
"No more of love, your sex is known;
I never will be twice deceived.
Henceforth I trust the man alone;
The woman cannot be believed.

"Through slander, meanest spawn of hell,-
And woman's slander is the worst,-
And you, whom once I loved so well,
Through you my life will be accursed."
I spoke with heart and heat and force,
I shook her breast with vague alarms--
Like torrents from a mountain source
We rushed into each other's arms.

We parted; sweetly gleamed the stars,
And sweet the vapor-braided blue;
Low breezes fanned the belfry bars,
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appeared to smile,

So fresh they rose in shadowed swells;
"Dark porch," I said, "and silent aisle,
There comes a sound of marriage bells."
Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

PROTHALAMION

CALM was the day, and through the trembling air Sweet-breathing Zephyrus did softly play

A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay

Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair;
When I (whom sullen care,

Through discontent of my long fruitless stay

In Prince's Court, and expectation vain

Of idle hopes, which still do fly away,
Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain),
Walked forth to ease my pain

Prothalamion

Along the shore of silver streaming Thames;
Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems,
Was painted all with variable flowers,

And all the meads adorned with dainty gems,
Fit to deck maidens' bowers,

And crown their paramours

Against the bridal day, which is not long:

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

There, in a meadow, by the river's side,
A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy,
All lovely daughters of the flood thereby,
With goodly greenish locks, all loose untied,
As each had been a bride:

And each one had a little wicker basket,

Made of fine twigs, entrailèd curiously,

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In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket,
And, with fine fingers, cropped full feateously
The tender stalks on high.

Of every sort, which in that meadow grew,
They gathered some; the violet, pallid blue,
The little daisy, that at evening closes,
The virgin lily, and the primrose true,
With store of vermeil roses,

To deck their bridegroom's posies

Against the bridal day, which was not long:

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

With that I saw two swans of goodly hue
Come softly swimming down along the Lee;
Two fairer birds I yet did never see;

The snow, which doth the top of Pindus strew,

Did never whiter shew,

Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be

For love of Leda, whiter did appear;

Yet Leda was, they say, as white as he,

Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near;

So purely white they were,

That even the gentle stream, the which them bare,

Seemed foul to them, and bade his billows spare
To wet their silken feathers, lest they might
Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair,
And mar their beauties bright,

That shone as heaven's light,

Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill,
Ran all in haste to see that silver brood,

As they came floating on the crystal flood;
Whom when they saw, they stood amazèd still,

Their wondering eyes to fill;

Them seemed they never saw a sight so fair

Of fowls so lovely, that they sure did deem
Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair
Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team;
For sure they did not seem

To be begot of any earthly seed,

But rather angels, or of angels' breed;

Yet were they bred of summer's heat, they say,
In sweetest season, when each flower and weed
The earth did fresh array;

So fresh they seemed as day,

Even as their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew
Great store of flowers, the honor of the field,
That to the sense did fragrant odors yield,
All which upon those goodly birds they threw
And all the waves did strew,

That like old Peneus' waters they did seem,

When down along by pleasant Tempe's shore,
Scattered with flowers, through Thessaly they stream,
That they appear, through lilies' plenteous store,
Like a bride's chamber floor:

Two of those nymphs, meanwhile, two garlands bound
Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found,

Prothalamion

The which presenting all in trim array,

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Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crowned,
Whilst one did sing this lay,

Prepared against that day,

Against their bridal day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

"Ye gentle birds! the world's fair ornament,
And heaven's glory whom this happy hour
Doth lead unto your lover's blissful bower,
Joy may you have, and gentle hearts' content
Of your love's couplement;

And let fair Venus, that is queen of love,
With her heart-quelling son upon you smile,
Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove
All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile
For ever to assoil;

Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord,
And blessed plenty wait upon your board;
And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound,
That fruitful issue may to you afford,
Which may your foes confound,

And make your joys redound

Upon your bridal day, which is not long":
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

So ended she: and all the rest around
To her redoubled that her undersong,

Which said their bridal day should not be long:
And gentle Echo from the neighbor-ground
Their accents did resound.

So forth those joyous birds did pass along,
Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low,
As he would speak, but that he lacked a tongue,
Yet did by signs his glad affection show,
Making his stream run slow.

And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell
'Gan flock about these twain, that did excel
The rest, so far as Cynthia doth shend
The lesser stars. So they, enrangèd well,

Did on those two attend,

And their best service lend

Against their wedding day, which was not long:
Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

At length they all to merry London came,
To merry London, my most kindly nurse,
That to me gave this life's first native source;
Though from another place I take my name,
An house of ancient fame:

There when they came, whereas those bricky towers
The which on Thames' broad, aged back do ride,
Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers,
There whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide,
Till they decayed through pride:

Next whereunto there stands a stately place,
Where oft I gainèd gifts and goodly grace

Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell,
Whose want too well now feels my friendless case;

But ah! here fits not well

Old woes, but joys, to tell

Against the bridal day, which is not long:

Sweet Thames! run softly, till I end my song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer,

Great England's glory, and the world's wide wonder,

Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder,

And Hercules' two pillars standing near

Did make to quake and fear:

Fair branch of honor, flower of chivalry!

That fillest England with thy triumph's fame,

Joy have thou of thy noble victory,

And endless happiness of thine own name,

That promiseth the same;

That through thy prowess, and victorious arms,
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms;

And great Elisa's glorious name may ring

Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms,
Which some brave muse may sing

To ages following,