]
THE TALKING OAK
First published in 1842, and republished in all subsequent editions with
only two slight alterations: in line 113 a mere variant in spelling, and
in line 185, where in place of the present reading the editions between
1842 and 1848 read, "For, ah!
THE TALKING OAK
First published in 1842, and republished in all subsequent editions with
only two slight alterations: in line 113 a mere variant in spelling, and
in line 185, where in place of the present reading the editions between
1842 and 1848 read, "For, ah!
Tennyson
]
[Footnote 2: For this retirement to a mountain see 'Acta', i. , 270, and
it is referred to in the other lives:
"Post haec egressus occulte perrexit in montem non longe a monasterio,
ibique sibi clausulam de sicca petra fecit, et stetit sic annos
tres. "]
[Footnote 3: In accurate accordance with the third life, 'Acta',
i. , 277:
"Primum quidem columna ad sex erecta cubitos est, deinde ad duodecim,
post ad vigenti extensa est";
but for the thirty-six cubits which is assigned as the height of the
last column Tennyson's authority, drawing on another account ('Id'. ,
271), substitutes forty:
"Fecerunt illi columnam habentem cubitos quadraginta". ]
[Footnote 4: For the miracles wrought by him see all the lives. ]
[Footnote 5: These details seem taken from the well-known stories about
Luther and Bunyan. All that the 'Acta' say about St. Simeon is that
he was pestered by devils. ]
[Footnote 6: The 'Acta' say nothing about the crown, but dwell on the
supernatural fragrance which exhaled from the saint. ]
[Footnote 7: Tennyson has given a very poor substitute for the
beautifully pathetic account given of the death of St. Simeon in 'Acta',
i. , 168, and again in the ninth chapter of the second Life, 'Ibid'. ,
273. But this is to be explained perhaps by the moral purpose of the
poem.
]
THE TALKING OAK
First published in 1842, and republished in all subsequent editions with
only two slight alterations: in line 113 a mere variant in spelling, and
in line 185, where in place of the present reading the editions between
1842 and 1848 read, "For, ah! the Dryad-days were brief".
Tennyson told Mr. Aubrey de Vere that the poem was an experiment meant
to test the degree in which it is in the power of poetry to humanise
external nature. Tennyson might have remembered that Ovid had made the
same experiment nearly two thousand years ago, while Goethe had
immediately anticipated him in his charming 'Der Junggesett und der
Muhlbach'. There was certainly no novelty in such an attempt. The poem
is in parts charmingly written, but the oak is certainly "garrulously
given," and comes perilously near to tediousness.
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
Beyond the lodge the city lies,
Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.
For when my passion first began,
Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;
To yonder oak within the field
I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appeal'd
Than Papist unto Saint.
For oft I talk'd with him apart,
And told him of my choice,
Until he plagiarised a heart,
And answer'd with a voice.
Tho' what he whisper'd, under Heaven
None else could understand;
I found him garrulously given,
A babbler in the land.
But since I heard him make reply
Is many a weary hour;
'Twere well to question him, and try
If yet he keeps the power.
Hail, hidden to the knees in fern,
Broad Oak of Sumner-chace,
Whose topmost branches can discern
The roofs of Sumner-place!
Say thou, whereon I carved her name,
If ever maid or spouse,
As fair as my Olivia, came
To rest beneath thy boughs.
[Footnote 2: For this retirement to a mountain see 'Acta', i. , 270, and
it is referred to in the other lives:
"Post haec egressus occulte perrexit in montem non longe a monasterio,
ibique sibi clausulam de sicca petra fecit, et stetit sic annos
tres. "]
[Footnote 3: In accurate accordance with the third life, 'Acta',
i. , 277:
"Primum quidem columna ad sex erecta cubitos est, deinde ad duodecim,
post ad vigenti extensa est";
but for the thirty-six cubits which is assigned as the height of the
last column Tennyson's authority, drawing on another account ('Id'. ,
271), substitutes forty:
"Fecerunt illi columnam habentem cubitos quadraginta". ]
[Footnote 4: For the miracles wrought by him see all the lives. ]
[Footnote 5: These details seem taken from the well-known stories about
Luther and Bunyan. All that the 'Acta' say about St. Simeon is that
he was pestered by devils. ]
[Footnote 6: The 'Acta' say nothing about the crown, but dwell on the
supernatural fragrance which exhaled from the saint. ]
[Footnote 7: Tennyson has given a very poor substitute for the
beautifully pathetic account given of the death of St. Simeon in 'Acta',
i. , 168, and again in the ninth chapter of the second Life, 'Ibid'. ,
273. But this is to be explained perhaps by the moral purpose of the
poem.
]
THE TALKING OAK
First published in 1842, and republished in all subsequent editions with
only two slight alterations: in line 113 a mere variant in spelling, and
in line 185, where in place of the present reading the editions between
1842 and 1848 read, "For, ah! the Dryad-days were brief".
Tennyson told Mr. Aubrey de Vere that the poem was an experiment meant
to test the degree in which it is in the power of poetry to humanise
external nature. Tennyson might have remembered that Ovid had made the
same experiment nearly two thousand years ago, while Goethe had
immediately anticipated him in his charming 'Der Junggesett und der
Muhlbach'. There was certainly no novelty in such an attempt. The poem
is in parts charmingly written, but the oak is certainly "garrulously
given," and comes perilously near to tediousness.
Once more the gate behind me falls;
Once more before my face
I see the moulder'd Abbey-walls,
That stand within the chace.
Beyond the lodge the city lies,
Beneath its drift of smoke;
And ah! with what delighted eyes
I turn to yonder oak.
For when my passion first began,
Ere that, which in me burn'd,
The love, that makes me thrice a man,
Could hope itself return'd;
To yonder oak within the field
I spoke without restraint,
And with a larger faith appeal'd
Than Papist unto Saint.
For oft I talk'd with him apart,
And told him of my choice,
Until he plagiarised a heart,
And answer'd with a voice.
Tho' what he whisper'd, under Heaven
None else could understand;
I found him garrulously given,
A babbler in the land.
But since I heard him make reply
Is many a weary hour;
'Twere well to question him, and try
If yet he keeps the power.
Hail, hidden to the knees in fern,
Broad Oak of Sumner-chace,
Whose topmost branches can discern
The roofs of Sumner-place!
Say thou, whereon I carved her name,
If ever maid or spouse,
As fair as my Olivia, came
To rest beneath thy boughs.
