The daily dispatch. [volume] (Richmond [Va.]) 1850-1884, 1873-01-09
Tired of EelinI'sors.
From Review Of Gareh and Lynctte In Black
rooi.s Npp,zinp

rEron Review Of Gareth and Lyuctte, In Black
woods Magaznc.l
i is a strange melnento to ourselves Of the
passage Of time 10 rccolicct the days when q
new poem by Dir. Tcnnyson made our heart
beat and Our ears Jingle. Is time alone and
ourselves to blame that it does so no longer?
th:t We hear OF Gareth and Lynette with a
calm not unninyed with discomfort, and
read it with still greater conposure, and
something between grumble and Il sigh
Partly, perhaps, the fault Is ours, but partly
that OF the singer who has drawn out the lin
scriDs sweetness of his notes SO long that
the cadence begins to ring drealily upon our
GAGS aud to sound like a faint echo Of some
thing we have heard before, rather than
vigorous utterance of the present. we de-
sire to throw no scorn upon the tables OF
the Table Round. Such as they are, they
have taken profound possession of at least all
tic Celtic peoples, though, oddly enough, II
|. the most English of poets who has given
90 them their most elevated and noble form.
The myth of King Arthur and his chivalry
is MS noble one as the imagination ever con.
ceiyed; and Mr.. Tennys IN has treated many
portions of it In noble way. Few poems have
ever been taken more into the heart of gene
ration than the first Idyils of the King. They
were not without faults, indeed. The story
of Enid might be monotonous and aimleSS,
the story of Vivien improper" US many
people thought, and certainly disagreeable,
but the milk-white visionary maiden Elaine,
and the great impassioned woman Guiue-
we're, were pictures to last forever; and
20 was that sad and wonderful figure of
Lancelot the most perfect creation of mo-
dcrn poetry, and all Mr.. Temyson's own !;
for the Lancelot Of the ancient story has lit.
tie in common with that truest and fulsest OF
knights aud lovers-that wonderful inner
scnation Of honor and dishonor, most ga.
the,ic Of heroes. Most readers must have
felt certain pang of disappointment mingle
with their eager anticipation when q second
volume of idylls was announced to us; but
when, after the "Holy Grail" there comes
yet another last appearance, the pain quite
predominates over the pleasure even in an
tlcipa,ion. We will not say we are tired of
Arthur, but we are certainly little offended,
little grieved, and half ashamed of this off
return to the exhausted tale. Mr.. Tenuyson
has right, as tho first of reigning poets, to
have his way and take his own course; but,
loyal as we are to him, his way troubles us,
and disturbs not our allegiance. but our
satisfaction in it. Is this indeed the very
last? or may there yet come again another
GuH duOtutk W tiStuU oul iullS anu our
latest editions? We hope not. Mr.. Tenny.
son is still too rich in visor and power to
contine himself by anything but caprice to
this well.worn field. and we trust he vii!
listen to the whisper Of remonstrance, hardly
loud enough TO make itself publicly heard,
which is rising family all over England.
Critics are often bold, and sometimes bitter,
but there Is q curious servility mixed with
their daring to authors who are above their
powers. We are afraid to dissent from the
universal public prase-or we are afraid to
appear less gifted and able to appreciate the
new great work than our fellows-or, lastly,
we are afraid of reprisals, which one of the
body-guard of the poet might be prompt to
make. But however tits, this is certain, that
few OF us have boldness to say, what most
people are thinking, to the most popular of
poets, that one little word, Enough! Though
we breathe 1t in our neighbours ear without
hesitation, we are afraid TO pronounce it
boldly In the hearing of the world. 80
Yet 1t is the only word which expresses
our sentiment. Enough, oh beloved poet.
You cannot make another Lanceiot for ms.
Do not, we beseecb you, wear out our fond
reeollections, and discourage our loyal atten-
ton by more Ga,eths, or even more Iris
trans. After the leader, the common
knights pail upon us. lie. lis have no
more Last Tournaments or last words
The harp has other strings and the world
other stories inll Of poetic meaning. Create
ne something new cut Of time and nature
saEsshins fresh OUT Of the unknown!