



Produced by ddNg E-Ching





THE PRINCESS

by Alfred Lord Tennyson




PROLOGUE


   Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
   Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
   Up to the people:  thither flocked at noon
   His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
   The neighbouring borough with their Institute
   Of which he was the patron.  I was there
   From college, visiting the son,--the son
   A Walter too,--with others of our set,
   Five others:  we were seven at Vivian-place.

        And me that morning Walter showed the house,
   Greek, set with busts:  from vases in the hall
   Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names,
   Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay
   Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park,
   Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time;
   And on the tables every clime and age
   Jumbled together; celts and calumets,
   Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans
   Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,
   Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere,
   The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs
   From the isles of palm:  and higher on the walls,
   Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer,
   His own forefathers' arms and armour hung.

        And 'this' he said 'was Hugh's at Agincourt;
   And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon:
   A good knight he! we keep a chronicle
   With all about him'--which he brought, and I
   Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights,
   Half-legend, half-histor