Cleveland morning leader. [volume] (Cleveland [Ohio]) 1854-1865, 1864-08-16
MORNING LEADER.
Tennyssn,s New Poems

in HMaud,' ha shows weakness. His latest |
production, aIdyls of the King showed
maturity of power, and no decline Of fancy. |
His new volume, published here in advance |
ofits appearance in London, is a eollee-
zion of poems. the two first of which are
| narrative. written in that easy blank verse |
9bich many have attempted, but without
The first story, called aEnoch Arden"
has a fisherman for its hero, and fishing
hamlet for its locality The time is hun
dred years ago. Enoch Arden Is a rough
| sailors lad, Philip Ray is the miller's only
s1D, and Annie Lee,
The prettiest little damsel in the port
| is loved by both but weds EnOch, who, ere
| he touched his one and twentieth year, mas
| purchased n boat of his own, and
Made home
| For Annie. neat and nestIIle, halfway up
The narrow street tha; clambered toward the MILL
The marriage takes place, Philip griev-
ling over his own rejection, and seven hap
nv wears Of health and competence glide
| on. A girl and two boys are the fruits
| Fnoch meets with an accident which lays
| him up for a time, and then, in hope Of bet
| tering his fortune he goes out as a boats
| vain in a China-boand vessel. He starts
/ Annie. bv the sale of his boat, in a small
ware Shop, and leaves her--he full Of hope
she oppressed with the sad augury that she
was not again TO sse him. The youngest
child dies. The little business does not an
| swer. Philip undertakes to educate the
other children, he being "rich and well to,
/ and the little ones,
ss Lgrls Of his house and ofhis mill were they"
/ II. Dl,.ls., 4or r-oar- T,oee
4 with no tidings of EnOch, and then Philip
entreats Annie to marry him. She con-
/ SCENTS. provided he will wait another year
II 10 see whether Enoch may return. Her
H children wish this marriage to take place
1 She prays for a sign that Enoch was dead,
and opens the Bible at the text +" Under a
palm tree and dreams that she sees him
sitting on a height. under palm tree, and
I - e -aIaa- sllI,s-n->A a'9fieNes t1hb
| Yondea shines
The SIM Of Rirliteousness, and these be palms
t--yssIuTrUf tlIe happy pe0pIe struEEtrs5 vTiSa
{. HossHna in the highest u
She weds--but we must let the poet tell US
Of these second nuptials .s
So these were we'd and merrily rang the bells,
| Mcrrily rang the bells and they were wed,
: But never nierrily beat Anuie's heart
Asfoatstep scented 10 fall beside erpath,
She knew not whence; whisper o. her ear,
' ! She knew not what; nor loved she. TO be leit
| Alone at home, nor yentured out alone
Wbai all. d her then, that ere she entered o'Ieh
d | Her hand, drtlt llngerIngly On the latch,
, | Fearing t. enter: Philip thought he knew
such doubts and fears were common to her state,
v | Being with child; but when her child Was JoFn'
r | Then her new chill vas as herself renew d,
> | Then the new mother came about her heart,
. Then her good Philip was her all-in-All,
, And that mysterious instinct wholly died
Meantime, Enoch still lives. On tht
homeward voyage, his ship is wrecked
, himself and two comrades reaching al
island. an Eden of all plenteousness,
p where eternal summer smiled. Th
. Youngest died, having Fingered out {
/ three-years death in-life-H Enoch's surYi
:, wing conlrade dies sun-stricken. Year
mass on. and at last ship, touching tn
= island for water, bears Enoch back to Eng
land, landing him in the harbOr whence
wears ago. he had sailed before. He find
u no LIGHT nor nurmur IN the home where b
and Annie had lived. He went to an oil
= tavern kept by one Miriam Lane;
er But Miriam Lane vas good and garrulous,
K Nor let him be, but often breakisg in,
Told him, with other annals of the port
) | Not kuowing-EnOch was 50 brown, so bow d,
,Il' | So broken-=ail the story Of his house.
q. His baUys death, her growing poverty,
/ How Philip pnt her little ones TO SCHOOL,
lps md kept tEem in Il, his long WOOing her
90 Her SLOW C, nsent and marriage, and the birth
Of PhiIip'a child: aud over his cOuntenanee
~ No shadow past, nor motion any one
-,is Regarding well, and deem'd he felt the tale
-0N Less than the teller: only when she closed,
NJ Enoch poor man, was cast away and lost
n. | And in deeper inward whispers =" lost ]
But EnoSh yearnod to- her fScee again
ssIf might look on her sweet face again
70 Ard know that she is happy, 50 the thought
ie Haunted and harrass't q hir and drove him lonr'
all / Al evening when the dull Aoyenbs day
ma | Was growing dulleT twilight, to the hill H
and There he -at down, gazing on all below
There did q Thousand memories rol upon Allb
on, Unspeakz able for sadness. By ana BY
Al Al The ruddy square Of comfortable light
me- Far blazing IRON the rear Of Philips house, I
I Allbred him as the beacOu-blaze allures
,-lia The bird Of passage, till he Wadly strikes
Dlis, Against it, and beats out bis weary Aie'
ipp For Philips dwelling fronted on the street.
ans The latest house TO landwani but behind,
me With one small gate that opena On the waste,
pea- FIoursh'd a little garden square aud walfdi
In | And in it throve ancient evergreen,
A yewtrte and all round It ran walk
pply OF -einEie and walk divided 1t
ice But Enoch shunn d the middle walk and stole
. IJf BY the wall, bohiud the yewi aud thence
u That which he better might have shunn'ds IL gr
AD | Like his have worse or better, Enoeh saw
,ss, For Guns and silver and tho burnishd board
Sparlial and shone; SO genial was the hearth;
niger aud on the ri1ht hand OF tho hearth he saw
D: Phfip, the sliaItCd suitOr Of old times,
stout, rosy, with his babes across MS knees
e a And ser her second father, stoopt a girl,
ouia, A later but a iofticr Annie Lee,
1e at Fair hard and tall and from her lifted hand
=. n. n. panele,l length OF ribbon and ring .
n a. o. To tempt 4he babo who rear its Greasy arms,
Rn C5TyIt at and ever missed it, and they laughed
And on the left hand Of the hearth he saw
on The mother glancing often toward her babe,
rio at But turning now and then 10 speak with him.
ing at eE S5 Nv .n Sii tbsf which pleased him for he en-
and -'iiA ''' 7
2;so Now when the dead man came to life, beheld
His wife his wife no more, and saw the babe
-e Hers, yet not Iris, upon the fathers knee,
s, | And all the warmth, the peace, the happiness,
PPa,nS And his own children tall and beautiful,
| And him. that other, reigning in his place,
TION Lord OF his rights and Of his children love
rive at len he tho Miriam Lane had told him ell,
Because things seen are mightier than I
at an heard
9EllS, stargor'd and shook, holding the branch,
's7 fear'd
ine at To send abroad shfiu and terrible cry,
ieyile Which in one moment like the blast OF doom,
: l Would shatter all the happiness Of the hearth
hrough He therefore turning softly like thlet
Lest the harsh shinge should crate under foo
Ci7c5I And feeling Bll along the garden wall
6rogb Lest he should svoon and tumble and be foun
~ t6e Crept to the gate and opend it, and closed,
1T Buff As lightly as a sick mans chamber door,
uilalo & Behind him, and came out upon the waste
Z igSf5 rams He does not discover himself, but
his living as before, among the boat
ISii sSiITOSd baris, gradually declines in health
his story to Miriam Lane under a s
promise Of silence; ..
-, charge you now,
THO When You shan see her, tell her that died
So Rem Blessing her. praying for her, loving her;