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Image from page 97 of "The princess, a medley" (1880)

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posted by alias Internet Archive Book Images on Wednesday 30th of July 2014 08:57:07 AM

Identifier: princessmedley04tenn Title: The princess, a medley Year: 1880 (1880s) Authors: Tennyson, Alfred Tennyson, Baron, 1809-1892 Rolfe, W. J. (William James), 1827-1910, ed Subjects: Publisher: Boston, Ticknor and company [188-?] Contributing Library: The Library of Congress Digitizing Sponsor: Sloan Foundation View Book Page: Book Viewer About This Book: Catalog Entry View All Images: All Images From Book Click here to view book online to see this illustration in context in a browseable online version of this book. Text Appearing Before Image: ommon wrong — A smoke go up thro which I loom to her Three times a monster: now she lightens scorn At him that mars her plan, but then would hate (And every voice she talkd with ratify it, And every face she lookd on justify it) The general foe. More soluble is this knot By gentleness than war. I want her love. 130 What were I nigher this altho we dashd Your cities into shards with catapults ? She would not love ; — or brought her chaind, a slave, The lifting of whose eyelash is my lord ? Not ever would she love, but brooding turn The book of scorn, till all my flitting chance Were caught within the record of her wrongs And crushd to death : and rather, Sire, than this 1 would the old God of war himself were dead,Forgotten, rusting on his iron hills, 140Rotting on some wild shore with ribs of wreck. 94 THE PRINCESS: Or like an old-world mammoth bulkd in ice,Not to be molten out. And roughly spakeMy father, Tut, you know them not, the girls.Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think Text Appearing After Image: That idiot legend credible. Look you, Sir !Man is the hunter; woman is his game :The sleek and shining creatures of the chase,We hunt them for the beauty of their skins ;They love us for it, and we ride them down.Wheedling and siding with them ! Out! for shame !Boy, there s no rose thats half so dear to them 150 A MEDLEY. 95 As he that does the thing they dare not do, Breathing and sounding beauteous battle, comes With the air of the trumpet round him, and leaps in Among the women, snares them by the score Flatterd and flusterd. wins, tho dashd with death He reddens what he kisses : thus I won Your mother, a good mother, a good wife, Worth winning ; but this firebrand — gentleness 160 To such as her ! if Cyril spake her true, To catch a dragon in a cherry net. To trip a tigress with a gossamer, Were wisdom to it. Yea, but, Sire, I cried,Wild natures need wise curbs. The soldier? No :What dares not Ida do that she should prizeThe soldier? I beheld her, when she roseThe yesternight, a Note About Images Please note that these images are extracted from scanned page images that may have been digitally enhanced for readability - coloration and appearance of these illustrations may not perfectly resemble the original work.



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  • Published 05.17.22
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