. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . man thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus,To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle —Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfilThis labour, by slow prudence to make mildA rugged people, and thro soft degreesSubdue them to the useful and the blameless is he, centred in the sphereOf common duties, decent not to failIn offices of tenderness, and payMeet 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 that have toild, and w
. Maud, Locksley hall, and other poems . man thought. This is my son, mine own Telemachus,To whom I leave the sceptre and the isle —Well-loved of me, discerning to fulfilThis labour, by slow prudence to make mildA rugged people, and thro soft degreesSubdue them to the useful and the blameless is he, centred in the sphereOf common duties, decent not to failIn offices of tenderness, and payMeet 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 that have toild, and wrought, and thought with me —That ever with a frolic welcome tookThe thunder and the sunshine, and opposedFree 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 lights begin to twinkle from the rocks :The long day wanes : the slow moon climbs : thedeep \ Ulysses. 109. THE SLOW MOON CLIMBS : THE DEEP MOANS ROUNDWITH MANY VOICES. Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,Tis not too late to seek a newer off, and sitting well in order smite I lo Ulysses. 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. Tho much is taken, much abides ; and tho 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. TITHONUS. The woods decay, the woods decay and fall,The vapours weep their burthen to the ground,
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