. The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson. ast I spurrd; I felt my veinsStretch with fierce heat; a moment hand to hand,And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung,Till I struck out and shouted; the blade glanced,I did but shear a feather, and dream and truth 530 Flowd from me; darkness closed me, and I fell. PART SIXTH Home they brought her warrior dead; She nor swoond nor utterd her maidens, watching, said, She must weep or she will die. Then they praised him, soft and low,Calld him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe;Yet she neither spoke nor moved. St
. The poetic and dramatic works of Alfred lord Tennyson. ast I spurrd; I felt my veinsStretch with fierce heat; a moment hand to hand,And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung,Till I struck out and shouted; the blade glanced,I did but shear a feather, and dream and truth 530 Flowd from me; darkness closed me, and I fell. PART SIXTH Home they brought her warrior dead; She nor swoond nor utterd her maidens, watching, said, She must weep or she will die. Then they praised him, soft and low,Calld him worthy to be loved, Truest friend and noblest foe;Yet she neither spoke nor moved. Stole a maiden from her place, 5 Lightly to the warrior stept, Took the face-cloth from the face ;Yet she neither moved nor wept. 199 Kose a nurse of ninety years,Set his child upon her knee — Like summer tempest came her tears Sweet my child, I live for thee. YI My dream had never died or livedagain ; As in some mystic middle state I I saw not, hearing not I heard ;Tho, if I saw not, yet they told me allSo often that I speak as having i Like summer tempest came her tears — Sweet my child, I live for thee 200 THE PRINCESS For so it seemd, or so they said to me,That all things grew more tragic and more strange;That when our side was vanquishd and my causeFor ever lost, there went up a great cry, The Prince is slain! My father heardand ran 10 In on the lists, and there unlaced mycasque And grovelld on my body, and afterhim Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglaia. But high upon the palace Ida stoodWith Psyches babe in arm ; there on the roofsLike that great dame of Lapidoth she sang. Our enemies have fallen, have fallen: the seed,The little seed they laughd at in the dark,Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulkOf spanless girth, that lays on every side 20A thousand arms and rushes to the sun. Our enemies have fallen, have fallen they came;The leaves were wet with womens tears; they heardA noise of songs they would not understand;They markd it with the red cros
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