One section, The Sleeping Beauty, was published 1830; the whole sequence was published 1842. R. J. Tennant wrote to T., 8 June 1834: ‘Send me the new Sleeping Beauty and whatever else you have written since the glorious three days of my Christmas sojourn at Somersby’ (Letters i 111–12); meaning either The Sleeping Palace or the sequence from that to The Departure. The Prologue and Epilogue (and therefore presumably also Moral and L’Envoi) were ‘added after 1835 (when the poem was written), for the same reason that caused the Prologue of the Morte d’Arthur, giving an excuse for telling an old-world [Fairy-] tale’ (FitzGerald). This resemblance to The Epic might suggest 1837–8 for the Prologue and Epilogue. Perhaps it became tinged with T.’s feelings for Rosa Baring in 1833–4. The whole sequence is in T.Nbk 26 (except that The Sleeping Beauty, already published, is represented by its title only), where Moral was at first called Epilogue, and where L’Envoi at one stage concluded the sequence. All variants are below.
O Lady Flora, let me speak:
A pleasant hour has passed away
While, dreaming on your damask cheek,
As by the lattice you reclined,
I went through many wayward moods
To see you dreaming – and, behind,
A summer crisp with shining woods.
And I too dreamed, until at last
Across my fancy, brooding warm,
The reflex of a legend past,
And loosely settled into form.
And would you have the thought I had,
And see the vision that I saw,
then take the broidery-frame, and add
A crimson to the quaint Macaw,
And I will tell it. Turn your face,
Nor look with that too-earnest eye –
The rhymes are dazzled from their place,
And ordered words asunder fly.
I
The varying year with blade and sheaf
Clothes and reclothes the happy plains,
Here rests the sap within the leaf,
Here stays the blood along the veins.
Faint shadows, vapours lightly curled,
Faint murmurs from the meadows come,
Like hints and echoes of the world
To spirits folded in the womb.
II
Soft lustre bathes the range of urns
On every slanting terrace-lawn.
The fountain to his place returns
Deep in the garden lake withdrawn.
Here droops the banner on the tower,
On the hall-hearths the festal fires,
The peacock in his laurel bower,
The parrot in his gilded wires.
III
Roof-haunting martins warm their eggs:
In these, in those the life is stayed.
The mantles from the golden pegs
Droop sleepily: no sound is made,
Not even of a gnat that sings.
More like a picture seemeth all
Than those old portraits of old kings,
That watch the sleepers from the wall.
IV
Here sits the Butler with a flask
Between his knees, half-drained; and there
The wrinkled steward at his task,
The maid-of-honour blooming fair;
The page has caught her hand in his:
Her lips are severed as to speak:
His own are pouted to a kiss:
The blush is fixed upon her cheek.
V
Till all the hundred summers pass,
The beams, that through the Oriel shine,
Make prisms in every carven glass,
And beaker brimmed with noble wine.
Each baron at the banquet sleeps,
Grave faces gathered in a ring.
His state the king reposing keeps.
He must have been a jovial king.
VI
All round a hedge upshoots, and shows
At distance like a little wood;
Thorns, ivies, woodbine, mistletoes,
And grapes with bunches red as blood;
All creeping plants, a wall of green
Close-matted, bur and brake and briar,
And glimpsing over these, just seen,
High up, the topmost palace spire.
VII
When will the hundred summers die,
And thought and time be born again,
And newer knowledge, drawing nigh,
Bring truth that sways the soul of men?
Here all things in their place remain,
As all were ordered, ages since.
Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain,
And bring the fated fairy Prince.
I
Year after year unto her feet,
She lying on her couch alone,
Across the purple coverlet,
The maiden’s jet-black hair has grown,
On either side her trancèd form
Forth streaming from a braid of pearl:
The slumbrous light is rich and warm,
And moves not on the rounded curl.
II
The silk star-broidered coverlid
Unto her limbs itself doth mould
Languidly ever; and, amid
Her full black ringlets downward rolled,
Glows forth each softly-shadowed arm
With bracelets of the diamond bright:
Her constant beauty doth inform
Stillness with love, and day with light.
III
She sleeps: her breathings are not heard
In palace chambers far apart.
The fragrant tresses are not stirred
That lie upon her charmèd heart.
She sleeps: on either hand upswells
The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest:
She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells
A perfect form in perfect rest.
I
All precious things, discovered late,
To those that seek them issue forth;
For love in sequel works with fate,
And draws the veil from hidden worth.
He travels far from other skies –
His mantle glitters on the rocks –
A fairy Prince, with joyful eyes,
And lighter-footed than the fox.
II
The bodies and the bones of those
That strove in other days to pass,
Are withered in the thorny close,
Or scattered blanching on the grass.
He gazes on the silent dead:
‘They perished in their daring deeds.’
This proverb flashes through his head,
‘The many fail: the one succeeds.’
III
He comes, scarce knowing what he seeks:
He breaks the hedge: he enters there:
The colour flies into his cheeks:
He trusts to light on something fair;
For all his life the charm did talk
About his path, and hover near
With words of promise in his walk,
And whispered voices at his ear.
IV
More close and close his footsteps wind:
The Magic Music in his heart
Beats quick and quicker, till he find
The quiet chamber far apart.
His spirit flutters like a lark,
He stoops – to kiss her – on his knee.
‘Love, if thy tresses be so dark,
How dark those hidden eyes must be!’
I
A touch, a kiss! the charm was snapt.
There rose a noise of striking clocks,
And feet that ran, and doors that clapt,
And barking dogs, and crowing cocks;
A fuller light illumined all,
A breeze through all the garden swept,
A sudden hubbub shook the hall,
And sixty feet the fountain leapt.
II
The hedge broke in, the banner blew,
The butler drank, the steward scrawled,
The fire shot up, the martin flew,
The parrot screamed, the peacock squalled,
The maid and page renewed their strife,
The palace banged, and buzzed and clackt,
And all the long-pent stream of life
Dashed downward in a cataract.
III
And last with these the king awoke,
And in his chair himself upreared,
And yawned, and rubbed his face, and spoke,
‘By holy rood, a royal beard!
How say you? we have slept, my lords.
My beard has grown into my lap.’
The barons swore, with many words,
’Twas but an after-dinner’s nap.
‘Pardy,’ returned the king, ‘but still
My joints are somewhat stiff or so.
My lord, and shall we pass the bill
I mentioned half an hour ago?’
The chancellor, sedate and vain,
In courteous words returned reply:
But dallied with his golden chain,
And, smiling, put the question by.
I
And on her lover’s arm she leant,
And round her waist she felt it fold,
And far across the hills they went
In that new world which is the old:
Across the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
And deep into the dying day
The happy princess followed him.
II
‘I’d sleep another hundred years,
O love, for such another kiss;’
‘O wake for ever, love,’ she hears,
‘O love, ’twas such as this and this.’
And o’er them many a sliding star,
And many a merry wind was borne,
And, streamed through many a golden bar,
The twilight melted into morn.
III
‘O eyes long laid in happy sleep!’
‘O happy sleep, that lightly fled!’
‘O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep!’
‘O love, thy kiss would wake the dead!’
And o’er them many a flowing range
Of vapour buoyed the crescent-bark,
And, rapt through many a rosy change,
The twilight died into the dark.
IV
‘A hundred summers! can it be?
And whither goest thou, tell me where?’
‘O seek my father’s court with me,
For there are greater wonders there.’
And o’er the hills, and far away
Beyond their utmost purple rim,
Beyond the night, across the day,
Through all the world she followed him.
I
So, Lady Flora, take my lay,
And if you find no moral there,
Go, look in any glass and say,
What moral is in being fair.
Oh, to what uses shall we put
The wildweed-flower that simply blows?
And is there any moral shut
Within the bosom of the rose?
II
But any man that walks the mead,
In bud or blade, or bloom, may find,
According as his humours lead,
A meaning suited to his mind.
And liberal applications lie
In Art like Nature, dearest friend;
So ’twere to cramp its use, if I
Should hook it to some useful end.
I
You shake your head. A random string
Your finer female sense offends.
Well – were it not a pleasant thing
To fall asleep with all one’s friends;
To pass with all our social ties
To silence from the paths of men;
And every hundred years to rise
And learn the world, and sleep again;
To sleep through terms of mighty wars,
And wake on science grown to more,
On secrets of the brain, the stars,
As wild as aught of fairy lore;
And all that else the years will show,
The Poet-forms of stronger hours,
The vast Republics that may grow,
The Federations and the Powers;
Titanic forces taking birth
In divers seasons, divers climes;
For we are Ancients of the earth,
And in the morning of the times.
II
So sleeping, so aroused from sleep
Through sunny decads new and strange,
Or gay quinquenniads would we reap
The flower and quintessence of change.
III
Ah, yet would I – and would I might!
So much your eyes my fancy take –
Be still the first to leap to light
That I might kiss those eyes awake!
For, am I right, or am I wrong,
To choose your own you did not care;
You’d have my moral from the song,
And I will take my pleasure there:
And, am I right or am I wrong,
My fancy, ranging through and through,
To search a meaning for the song,
Perforce will still revert to you;
Nor finds a closer truth than this
All-graceful head, so richly curled,
And evermore a costly kiss
The prelude to some brighter world.
IV
For since the time when Adam first
Embraced his Eve in happy hour,
And every bird of Eden burst
In carol, every bud to flower,
What eyes, like thine, have wakened hopes,
What lips, like thine, so sweetly joined?
Where on the double rosebud droops
The fulness of the pensive mind;
Which all too dearly self-involved,
Yet sleeps a dreamless sleep to me;
A sleep by kisses undissolved,
That lets thee neither hear nor see:
But break it. In the name of wife,
And in the rights that name may give,
Are clasped the moral of thy life,
And that for which I care to live.
So, Lady Flora, take my lay,
And, if you find a meaning there,
O whisper to your glass, and say,
‘What wonder, if he thinks me fair?’
What wonder I was all unwise,
To shape the song for your delight
Like long-tailed birds of Paradise
That float through Heaven, and cannot light?
Or old-world trains, upheld at court
By Cupid-boys of blooming hue –
But take it – earnest wed with sport,
And either sacred unto you.
¶241. Prologue
1–8] I pored upon you as you dreamed
Beside the casement till there grew
I know not what of strange: you seemed
No Lady Flora that I know
But some perfection of the Mind
As minted in the golden moods
Of some great Artist – and behind
The summer crisp with shining woods. T.Nbk 26, del.
Cp. the third line with Tithonus 61–2: ‘Whispering I knew not what of wild and sweet, / Like that strange song’.
2] For all my fancies were at play T.MS.
4. dewy sister-eyelids: To Rosa ii 10 (1836).
5–7] I watcht you on that couch reclined,
Rich work of Nature’s amorous moods.
A happy foreground and behind T.MS
8. A] The T.MS. Adapted from The Gardener’s Daughter 29–31, MS: ‘crisp with shining woods / And summer holts’. At one stage T. thought of using this in Edwin Morris (T.Nbk 26).
9–10] I rose and shut the lattice fast.
I turned and watcht you breathing warm: T.MS
12. loosely] slowly T.MS.
15. Then] 1853; So 1842–51.
The Sleeping Palace
3. rests] stays H.Nbk 15 1st reading.
4. stays] sleeps H.MS 1st reading.
8. folded] dreaming H.MS 1st reading.
9. Cp. Shelley, Rosalind 832: ‘lustre bright and soft’, a passage which might have come to T.’s mind because it describes how ‘Sudden sleep would seize him oft / Like death, so calm’.
13. droops] rests H.MS 1st reading.
17] He heard the ringdoves warm their eggs: H.MS 1st reading. Cp. Macbeth l vi 4: ‘temple-haunting martlet’.
21. gnat] midge MSS.
26. and there] by him H.MS revision.
28] The waiting woman tight and trim H.MS; The waiting woman spruce and fair H.MS 1st reading. With MS, cp. Edwin Morris 46–7: ‘a dame indoors that trims us up, / And keeps us tight’.
33. Till all ] When will H.MS 1st reading.
34. through the Oriel ] o’er the dais H.MS 1st reading.
36. noble] glowing H.MS revision.
37. baron] noble H.MS.
37–40] The guests are strown on couch and floor,
His state the king reposing keeps.
They neither nod, or dream, or snore,
The mind, the heart, the breathing sleeps. H.MS 1st reading
Line 38 was inserted subsequently.
40. jovial ] 1853; jolly 1842 –51.
46. bur and brake] tendril, brake H.MS; brake and bur T.MS.
54. were] was H.MS 1st reading.
The Sleeping Beauty
2] 1842; The while she slumbereth alone, 1830.
3. Across] 1842; Over 1830. purple] 1884; purpled 1830–83.
4. has] 1842; hath 1830.
9. star-broidered ] 1842; starbraided 1830.
21. hand ] 1842; side 1830.
The Arrival Headed The Revival in H.MS.
4. veil ] cloud MSS.
6] And lighter-footed than the pard, H.MS.
8] In azure samite silver starred. H.MS.
9–16] Not H.MS.
12. on] 1853; in 1842–51.
15. This] A T.MS.
18. he] and H.MS.
19. flies] comes H.MS.
21. talk] keep MSS.
22. his … and] him and did H.MS.
23. walk] sleep MSS.
24. at] 1851; in 1842–50.
25. close and close] near and near H.MS.
26. Cp. ‘magic music’ as a Christmas game, The Princess: Prologue 192. The music is loud and fast when the seeker is ‘warm’; soft and slow when he is ‘cold’. FitzGerald turned the phrase in praise of T.: ‘We have had Alfred Tennyson here … at which good hour we would get Alfred to give us some of his magic music’ (April 1838; his Letters i 211).
27. Beats quick] Plays quicker H.MS.
31. be] are T.MS 1st reading.
The Revival
1. touch, a] single T.MS.
13. maid … their] page renewed his amorous T.MS.
17. with these] 1853; of all 1842–51. last … these] in the hall T.MS 1st reading; all at once T.MS alternative.
24. J. McCue compares Measure for Measure III i 33–4: ‘But as it were an afterdinner’s sleep, / Dreaming on both’.
26. somewhat] 1862; something 1842–60.
The Departure
4. ‘The world of Love’ (T.).
13. sliding: traditional diction in such a context. Cp. Dryden, Palamon and Arcite iii 129–33: ‘Creator Venus, genial power of love, / The bliss of men below and gods above! / Beneath the sliding sun thou runn’st thy race, / Dost fairest shine, and best become thy place; / For thee the winds their eastern blasts forbear …’
Moral
6. blows] grows T.MS 1st reading.
L’Envoi
9–12] Not T.MS 1st reading.
10–12. Cp. Locksley Hall 12: ‘With the fairy tales of science, and the long result of Time’.
13–14] To come on all the world will show,
Opinions, Poets, novel hours, T.MS 1st reading
16. Cp. Locksley Hall 128: ‘the Parliament of man, the Federation of the world’.
19–20. Turner (p. 92) notes Bacon, The Advancement of Learning: Antiquitas saeculi juventus mundi.
20. morning] twilight T.MS.
23. gay] light T.MS. would] might T.MS 1st reading.
24. Cp. In Memoriam lxi 4, MS: ‘The flower and quintessence of Time’.
25. -… might! ] my claim advance T.MS 1st reading.
26. fancy ] T.MS 1st reading; spirit T.MS.
27] Still to be first to break the trance, T.MS 1st reading.
32. take my pleasure] ride my hobby T.MS 1st reading.
34. through and ] nature T.MS 1st reading.
35. search … for] find … to T.MS.
37. closer] costlier T.MS 1st reading; dearer T.MS 2nd reading.
39. And] If T.MS 1st reading.
40. The] Were T.MS 1st reading.
41. For] And T.MS.
47. ‘A recollection of the bust of Clyte’ (T.). Clyte watches Apollo leaving her; T. had a bust of her at High Beech (Mem. i 151).
49. Which … dearly] 1843; The pensive mind that 1842.
52. That] 1843; Which 1842.
Epilogue
3. O] Go T.MS.
4–8] The meaning is that I am fair.
And Beauty’s self shall make amends
For Beauty’s error making Art’s [Art 1st reading]
Like sheep with those preposterous ends
That follow trailed in little carts [ from That travel in a little
cart] T.MS 1st reading
4–5] It is but this that I am fair
And ’tis but this made me unwise T.MS
6. the … your] a … thy T.MS.
7–8. In legend they do not alight.
9] Or trains of Countesses upheld T.MS 1st reading; Or old-world trains at court upheld T.MS.
11–12] Or like a lady’s postscript swelled
With windy text beyond its due. T.MS