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    ' Sometimes the riddle of the painful earth Flashed through her as she sat alone , Yet not the less held she her solemn mirth , And intellectual throne Of full-sphered contemplation . So three years She throve , but on the fourth she fell /

    And , lest in her fall she should perish utterly , * God plagued her with sore despair , ' and the palace becomes haunted with fearful phantasms ; and the soul is tried like Christian in the Valley of the Shadow of Death ; and * So when four years had wholly finished , She threw her royal robes away , " Make me a cottage in the vale , " she said , " Where I may mourn and pray . "

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    ** Yet pull not down my palace towers , that are So lightly , beautifully built , Perchance I may return with others there , When I have purged my guilt . '" And may we return there too , and abide for evermore , Amen

    But our readers must not think that the author is only at home in the delectable mountains , or in the Domdaniel caverns , under the depths of the metaphysical ocean ; we can instantly shift the scene to a cottage in a remote hamlet , and let the reader take two songs which should never be separated .

    * THE MAY QUEEN . You must wake and call me early , call me " early , mother dear ; To-morrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the blythe new year ; Of all the glad new year , mother , the maddest , merriest day , For I ' m to be Queen o' the May , mother , I'm to be Queen o' the May

    c There ' s many a black , black eye , they say , but none so bright as mine ; There ' s Margaret and Mary , there ' s Kate and Caroline : But none so fair as little Alice in all the land , they say , So I ' m to be Queen o * the May , mother , I ' m to be Queen o' the May .

    1 sleep so sound all night , mother , that I shall never wake , If you do not call me loud , when the day begins to break : But I must gather knots of flowers , and buds , and garlands gay , For Tin to be Queen o' the May , mother , I'm to be Queen o' the May

    ' As I came up the valley , whom , think ye , should I see , But Robin , leaning on the bridge , beneath the hazel-tree ? He thought of that sharp look , mother , 1 gave him yesterday , But I ' m to be Queeno' the May , mother , I'm to be Queen o' the May

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    36 Tennysonft Poems .

• Citation
  • Monthly Repository (1806-1838) and Unitarian Chronicle (1832-1833), Jan. 2, 1833, page 36, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse-os.kdl.kcl.ac.uk/periodicals/mruc/issues/vm2-ncseproduct2606/page/36/