Hither came at noon
Mournful ?
Mournful ?
Tennyson
The
poem is modelled partly on the Alexandrian Idyll, such an Idyll for
instance as the second Idyll of Theocritus or the 'Megara' or 'Europa'
of Moschus, and partly perhaps on the narratives in the 'Metamorphoses'
of Ovid, to which the opening bears a typical resemblance. It is
possible that the poem may have been suggested by Beattie's 'Judgment of
Paris' which tells the same story, and tells it on the same lines on
which it is told here, though it is not placed in the mouth of ? none.
Beattie's poem opens with an elaborate description of Ida and of Troy in
the distance. Paris, the husband of ? none, is one afternoon confronted
with the three goddesses who are, as in Tennyson's Idyll, elaborately
delineated as symbolising what they here symbolise. Each makes her
speech and each offers what she has to offer, worldly dominion, wisdom,
sensual pleasure. There is, of course, no comparison in point of merit
between the two poems, Beattie's being in truth perfectly commonplace.
In its symbolic aspect the poem may be compared with the temptations to
which Christ is submitted in 'Paradise Regained'. See books iii. and iv.
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier [1]
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars
The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus [2]
Stands up and takes the morning: but in front
The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel,
The crown of Troas.
Hither came at noon
Mournful ? none, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck
Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,
Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade
Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd [3] Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: [4]
The grasshopper is silent in the grass;
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, [5]
Rests like a shadow, and the cicala sleeps. [6]
The purple flowers droop: the golden bee
Is lily-cradled: I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, [7]
And I am all aweary of my life.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Hear me O Earth, hear me O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks,
I am the daughter of a River-God, [8]
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, [9]
A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be
That, while I speak of it, a little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
I waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine:
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved,
Came up from reedy Simois [10] all alone.
"O mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft:
Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes
I sat alone: white-breasted like a star
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin
Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair
Cluster'd about his temples like a God's;
And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens
When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart
Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.
poem is modelled partly on the Alexandrian Idyll, such an Idyll for
instance as the second Idyll of Theocritus or the 'Megara' or 'Europa'
of Moschus, and partly perhaps on the narratives in the 'Metamorphoses'
of Ovid, to which the opening bears a typical resemblance. It is
possible that the poem may have been suggested by Beattie's 'Judgment of
Paris' which tells the same story, and tells it on the same lines on
which it is told here, though it is not placed in the mouth of ? none.
Beattie's poem opens with an elaborate description of Ida and of Troy in
the distance. Paris, the husband of ? none, is one afternoon confronted
with the three goddesses who are, as in Tennyson's Idyll, elaborately
delineated as symbolising what they here symbolise. Each makes her
speech and each offers what she has to offer, worldly dominion, wisdom,
sensual pleasure. There is, of course, no comparison in point of merit
between the two poems, Beattie's being in truth perfectly commonplace.
In its symbolic aspect the poem may be compared with the temptations to
which Christ is submitted in 'Paradise Regained'. See books iii. and iv.
There lies a vale in Ida, lovelier [1]
Than all the valleys of Ionian hills.
The swimming vapour slopes athwart the glen,
Puts forth an arm, and creeps from pine to pine,
And loiters, slowly drawn. On either hand
The lawns and meadow-ledges midway down
Hang rich in flowers, and far below them roars
The long brook falling thro' the clov'n ravine
In cataract after cataract to the sea.
Behind the valley topmost Gargarus [2]
Stands up and takes the morning: but in front
The gorges, opening wide apart, reveal
Troas and Ilion's column'd citadel,
The crown of Troas.
Hither came at noon
Mournful ? none, wandering forlorn
Of Paris, once her playmate on the hills.
Her cheek had lost the rose, and round her neck
Floated her hair or seem'd to float in rest.
She, leaning on a fragment twined with vine,
Sang to the stillness, till the mountain-shade
Sloped downward to her seat from the upper cliff.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd [3] Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: [4]
The grasshopper is silent in the grass;
The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, [5]
Rests like a shadow, and the cicala sleeps. [6]
The purple flowers droop: the golden bee
Is lily-cradled: I alone awake.
My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love,
My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, [7]
And I am all aweary of my life.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Hear me O Earth, hear me O Hills, O Caves
That house the cold crown'd snake! O mountain brooks,
I am the daughter of a River-God, [8]
Hear me, for I will speak, and build up all
My sorrow with my song, as yonder walls
Rose slowly to a music slowly breathed, [9]
A cloud that gather'd shape: for it may be
That, while I speak of it, a little while
My heart may wander from its deeper woe.
"O mother Ida, many-fountain'd Ida,
Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.
I waited underneath the dawning hills,
Aloft the mountain lawn was dewy-dark,
And dewy-dark aloft the mountain pine:
Beautiful Paris, evil-hearted Paris,
Leading a jet-black goat white-horn'd, white-hooved,
Came up from reedy Simois [10] all alone.
"O mother Ida, harken ere I die.
Far-off the torrent call'd me from the cleft:
Far up the solitary morning smote
The streaks of virgin snow. With down-dropt eyes
I sat alone: white-breasted like a star
Fronting the dawn he moved; a leopard skin
Droop'd from his shoulder, but his sunny hair
Cluster'd about his temples like a God's;
And his cheek brighten'd as the foam-bow brightens
When the wind blows the foam, and all my heart
Went forth to embrace him coming ere he came.
