Mary Baldwin College - Bluestocking Yearbook (Staunton, VA)

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The AuQ;usta Seminary Anmial. 9 stately trees; their path, now leading up a winding slope, bor- dered by the sweet wild flowers which the sun stealing between the branches has stopped to kiss; now winding by the margin of the dreary mere, while Lynette ' s words of sarcasm and wit ring out in the clear air, followed by snatches of merry song teeming with derision of the kitchen-knave. It would seem as if the poet had delineated Enid upon the opposite page to serve as a contrast to Lynette, showing us the sweetness and power of a true woman, whose influence exerted at the fireside will be felt for good in the outside world. Geraint, the poet says, Loved her as he loved the light of heaven, And as the light of heaven varies. Now at sun rise, now at sun set, now b)- night With moon and trembling stars, so loved Geraint To make her beauty vary day Oy day, In crimsons and in purples and in gems, Her sweet submission to her husband ' s will, her utter con- fidence in his juds ment, her tender devotion to him when woimded, mark her as the noblest type of wifehood. Her joy at her lord ' s recovery and their flight from the castle of Doorm, is very touching. She did not -weep. But o ' er her meek eyes came a happy mist LiUe that which kept the heart of Eden green. Before the useful trouble of the rain. We shudder as we come to Vivien, for though she possesses a perfect beauty, still that same beauty creates a feeling of repul- sion, such as we experience when a glittering serpent approaches, we are fascinated in spite of ourselves, yet repelled. And her in- tellect was as keen as her beauty was dazzling, for by her astute- ness and suavity even Merlin, the mighty soothsayer of that day, was enslaved and finally ruined. To aid his fall the evil spirits were convoked in that violent storm, which rent the heav- ens and felled the mighty forest oaks. But though we may delight in the gaiety of Lynette and admire the loyalty and meekness of Enid, though Vivien may fascinate us, yet we feel the deepest love and sympathy for the sweet little Elaine, called the lily maid of Astolat from her resemblance to those sweet summer flowers, so fragrant in

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Tlie Augusta Seminary Annual. Tennyson ' s Women. ' Tennyson as a landscape word-painter is intensely true. A painter might perfectly rely upon his statement of facts, and lay fearlessly on the canvas the little clouds ' sun-fringed, ' which float in his skies. He has also excelled as no other modern bard has done in representing the feeling and manners of men and gods living in that far-off period, shadowed by the mists of antiquity, but, however keen may be his appreciation of the character of him who was made both sovereign and protector of women, still he charms us most when he tunes his lyre to the praise of woman and sings of love, that mystic and indescribable power, which has worked the weal or woe of man as far back as we can see through the vista of } ' ears. The lyaureate has described in so interesting and pleasing a manner, the characters of his heroines given in the Idyls of the King, that were we to confine ourselves to them alone, we should find many tender and lovely portraits as we turn its pages, each a keepsake, gilt-edged, embossed with flowers and decorations, richly got up, soft, full of delicate faces, always elegant and al- ways correct, which one might take to be sketched at random and which are yet carefully drawn, on white vellum, delicately touched by their out line, all selected to rest and occupy the soft, white hands of a young bride. The first to claim our notice is Lynette, the gay and saucy damsel of high lineage and a brow Ma} blossom and a cheek of apple blossom, Hawk-ej es; and lightly was her slender nose Tip-tilted like the petal of a flower. Lynette ' s face is as variable in expression as the sky on an April day, while her nature is more vivacious than any of the ladies 4escribed in the Idyls. She is coquettish, piquant, high spirited and yet withal generous and ready to acknowledge her faults. We cannot suppress the smile of amusement which plays about our lips as we read of her wild ride with Gareth through the gloomy forests overshadowed by the foliage of the

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10 The A igusta Seminary Annual. perfume and so spotless in purity. A child in years and appear- ance, a woman in sad experience, who so tenderly guarded the shield of lyancelot in the old stone tower, and who faded away like the delicate April blossoms under the noonday sun, when she found herself unloved. We often wonder how I ancelot could have withstood the charm of her innocent purity and beauty, but we must remember that his heart was filled with a guilty pas- sion for the queen. I will paint her, as I see her. Ten times have the lilies blown Since she looked upon the sun. And her face is lily-clear, Lily-shaped and dropped in dut} ' , To the law of its own beauty. Oval cheeks encolored faintly. Which a trail of golden hair. Keeps from fading off to air. And a forehead fair and saintly Which two blue eyes under shine, Like meek prayers before a shrine. Just as the longer we look at one of Raphael ' s Madonnas the more it grows upon us and delights us by some added charm, so in reading the story of Elaine, every step increases our ad- admiration and love until she attains, in our minds, the ideal of a woman nobly planned, the perfect work of God. But we are lost in delight when we gaze upon the peerless loveliness of Guinevere, around whom, all the others circle, as the lesser lights around the radiant moon. A woman not un- usual except for her queenly beauty, only a woman capable of a great pas.sion, who says: One who loves me must have a touch of earth; The low sun makes the color, and who mirrors the soul of the ordinary woman in her jealousy of her rival — the little maid, Elaine. True to human nature, which does not ap preciate the bright flowers of summer, until their petals are blasted by the icy hand of winter, and which only, hears the melody of the bird ' s song when he has winged his flight to southern lands, Guinevere did not prize until too late, the wealth of love lavi-shed upon her by the noble King Arthur. Perhaps