The broad seas swell'd to meet the keel, III How oft we saw the Sun retire, Of twilight slowly downward drawn, IV New stars all night above the brim The houseless ocean's heaving field V The peaky islet shifted shapes, High towns on hills were dimly seen, We passed long lines of Northern capes And dewy Northern meadows green. We came to warmer waves, and deep Where those long swells of breaker sweep VI By peaks that flamed, or, all in shade, By sands and steaming flats, and floods VII O hundred shores of happy climes, How swiftly stream'd ye by the bark! At times the whole sea burn'd, at times With wakes of fire we tore the dark; At times a carven craft would shoot From havens hid in fairy bowers, With naked limbs and flowers and fruit, But we nor paused for fruit nor flowers. VIII For one fair Vision ever fled Down the waste waters day and night, IX And now we lost her, now she gleam'd Now nearer to the prow she seem'd Like Virtue firm, like Knowledge fair, Now high on waves that idly burst Like Heavenly Hope she crown'd the sea, And now, the bloodless point reversed, She bore the blade of Liberty. X And only one among us — -him We pleased not- he was seldom pleased: He saw not far: his eyes were dim: But ours he swore were all diseased. "A ship of fools," he shriek'd in spite, "A ship of fools," he sneer'd and wept. And overboard one stormy night He cast his body, and on we swept. XI And never sail of ours was furl'd, But laws of Nature were our scorn. XII Again to colder climes we came, For still we follow'd where she led: Now mate is blind and captain lame, And half the crew are sick or dead; But, blind or lame or sick or sound, We follow that which flies before: We know the merry world is round, And we may sail for evermore. Alfred, Lord Tennyson ULYSSES T little profits that an idle king, IT By this still hearth, among these barren Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those Yet all experience is an arch where thro' For ever and for ever when I move. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breathe were life. Life piled on life A bringer of new things; and vile it were To follow knowledge, like a sinking star, This is my son, mine own Telemachus, This labour, by slow prudence to make mild Meet 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 mariners, Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world. Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds |