. Memories of the Tennysons . od sent forth hadnow again to God returned ; and they mourned fora loss to the nations life as they would mournsaying O my brother, In the absolute spontaneity of that vast gatheringof representative men and women, was eloquencemore than words to the power of Tennyson totouch the hearts of the people. It was the thoughtof that power to abide as well as touch that was onthat funeral morning balm for sadness. For it wasnot a sad gathering. Few tears fell. Full ofyears, wisdom, and honour, and like a shock ofcorn in its good golden time was the Poet borneto burial, a
. Memories of the Tennysons . od sent forth hadnow again to God returned ; and they mourned fora loss to the nations life as they would mournsaying O my brother, In the absolute spontaneity of that vast gatheringof representative men and women, was eloquencemore than words to the power of Tennyson totouch the hearts of the people. It was the thoughtof that power to abide as well as touch that was onthat funeral morning balm for sadness. For it wasnot a sad gathering. Few tears fell. Full ofyears, wisdom, and honour, and like a shock ofcorn in its good golden time was the Poet borneto burial, and the procession that bore him thitherwas triumphal ; a home-bringing, with a shout ofpraise. We gathered in the chapter-house. A sister ofthe Poet sat quietly waiting the summons to takeher place in the procession ; round her were a fewfaces that bore the Tennyson stamp upon them—the fine high brow of the Plantagenet. Thatother Alfred-like brother, Arthur, was not there, sofar as I could observe, nor Horatio, nor the aged. 1 r^ui ,1 Iirawing by A. Broatch. TENNYSONS GRAVE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. FROM ALDWORTH TO THE ABBEY. 177 elder brother, Frederick, last left of those three Somersby Nightingales. He, doubtless, far toofrail, and too far beyond-seas to be present;—yetwould he be present in his thought with that darkcompany. Nor was it possible to avoid notice howamongst the mourners on this, the very day whenthe world was thinking of great naval discoveries,there were faces so like that heroic sailor-soul whoseepitaph the Laureate had written for the marbleportrait on the Abbey walls, that one might guessdescendants of Sir John Franklin were of thecompany; but for the most part the mourners werefriends. I spoke with one, a friend of the Laureatesin old school-days at Louth. Ah, said he, Ican see Alfred now, sitting alone when we passedon to play, just where he loved to sit, upon an oldpost in the path, halfway between his lodgings andthe school. He would sit for hours the
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