Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. Natural Scenery in The Idylls of The King. AS the painter mingles his colors in forming the background of a pictm ' e, here deepening the shadows, there lightening the gloom, so Tennyson has made the natural scenery in his Idylls of the King a background for the legends of the Round Table. See how dark and heavy hang the clouds over the dim land of Cameliard. The wild beasts in the damp woods slink fearfully away, dreading they know not what, and the gray-crested waves break restlessly on the rocky shore ; but at last the sky breaks forth in flame, a child is borne from out the glow, and Merlin the Wizard cries : The King. The pleasant fields are spangled with daisies, the stream flows merrily between its green banks, and the bees hover eagerly over their flowery treasures, when Gareth, the gallant son of King Lot, follows the fairy Lynette through the tangled woods and through the open fields, till he comes to the silver, gleaming river, on the banks of which stand the silken tents of the four giants, the last of whom he overthrows as the east is dimpled with the flush of the rising sun and as the dew glistens upon the grass. Listen ! the birds are singing on branch and twig ; the fish dart in and out between the little islets gennned with flowers, and the mowers in the field are swinging their long scythes, wlieu gentle Enid, in her faded silk, comes riding by mth tear-dimmed eyes and heavy heart. The rain falls fast and fierce, the trees ci-eak and groan, while the lurid lightning I3lays round the huge old oak in whose hollow the Avily Vivien and Merlin the far-famed Wizard cower. x bove the rumbling of the thunder, Vivien is heard shrilly pleading for the secret of his power. At last she gains her end, and hi the heart of the time-worn oak old Merlin lies as dead, And lost to life and use and name and fame. Hark ! the poplars are soughing, sighing, and the wind moans sadly through the boughs. Elaine, the maid of Astolat, is dead,

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. 3. from Nature, or from JVIan, or from God. Hence, when we study AVordsworth we must turn with him to Those obstinate questionings of sense and outward things, Fallings from us, vanishings; Blank misgivings of a creature Moving about in worlds not realized. High instincts before which our mortal nature Did tremble like a guilty thing surprised. He nev6r humanized, as did Cliaucer, the spirits of natural ob- jects ; no fairy bands pass before him in tlie forest, some wearing the badge of the flower, others of the leaf ; no nymphs ai-e in his rivers, no dryads in his trees. It is true His daily teachers had been woods and rills. The silence that is in the starry sky, The sleep that is among the lonely hills; But, having felt the deep emotions caused by these outward things, he studies out their meaning, and there comes a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean, and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man : A motion and a spirit. If we wish to follow him we must learn to look on Natm ' e with that inward eye, which is the bliss of solitude, for in him was fulfilled the prophesy he made of his sister, his wild ecstacies were matured into a sober pleasm-e, his mind was a mansion for all lovely forms, his memory had become a dwelling-place for all sweet sounds and harmonies. Elizabeth T. Xewman.

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The Augusta Seminary Annual. 5 and the stream moves slowly under its burden of grief, while the breezes gently stir the long, golden tresses of her whose true love has been her death. But, see ! red lights are flashing on the distant mountain peaks and glowing in the sleeping valleys ; and softly, as a benediction, the light brightens, till on a long, quivering beam, the Holy Grail descends, and pure Sir Clalahad, having seen it, vanishes away to be crowned king far in the sj iritual city. Deep in the shadows of the fern-dell walled round by stately beeches lies the newly-knighted Pelleas on a bed of velvet moss, when, looking through tlie leaves, he sees her to whom his heart goes out in the cry, I love thee, tliough I know thee not. And he wins the title of Queen of Beauty for the proud Ettare, but, alas ! in vain ; at last, driven to despair, he wildly rides on and ever on. Softly, sadly through the latticed window creeps the red flush of the sun, slowly dying on the distant hills, and, as if dreading the coming evil, the wind sobs mournfully among the leaves. With love-kindled eyes Tristram swings the ruby carcanet in the waning light, then clasps it round Isolt ' s warm, white neck ; but behind him rises a shadow, and a voice cries ' tis false Mark ' s wa} ' , and Tristram sleeps the sleep that knows no waking. Alas I the bright moon veils her face in misty white, as if ashamed, and refuses to glimmer fortli upon the cloister as of old, for those convent walls shelter the guilty Queen, a traitor to her lord and king. Tlii ' ough the dark forests and over the wild meres has she fled, l)ut the cold wind sighs ' ' too late, the ill-omened raven croaks too late, and echo answers echo too late. But, like the golden glimmer of a star from out the gloomy night, there comes the promise of the king for hope in her despair : Peichauce, and so thou purify thy soul, And so thou lean on our fair father, Christ, Hereafter in that world wliere all are pure. We too may wait before high God. How cold the northern lights shuie on the winter sea ; how shrill the sea-wind slirieks, like the voice of false Gawain, crying, Hollow, hollow, hollow all delight ! the ripple washes in the reeds, and the wild water laps upon tlie crags when King