'That I may--hear the _throstle sing_ His bridal song--the boast of spring. Sweet as the noise, in parchèd plains, Of bubbling wells that fret the stones, (_If any sense in me remains_) Thy words will be--thy cheerful tones As welcome to--my _crumbling bones_!'--p. 4. '_If any sense in me remains!_'--This doubt is inconsistent with the opening stanza of the piece, and, in fact, too modest; we take upon ourselves to re-assure Mr. Tennyson, that, even after he shall be dead and buried, as much '_sense_' will still remain as he has now the good fortune to possess. We have quoted these first two poems in _extenso_, to obviate any suspicion of our having made a partial or delusive selection. We cannot afford space--we wish we could--for an equally minute examination of the rest of the volume, but we shall make a few extracts to show--what we solemnly affirm--that every page teems with beauties hardly less surprising. _The Lady of Shalott_ is a poem in four parts, the story of which we decline to maim by such an analysis as we could give, but it opens thus-- 'On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and _meet the sky_-- And _through_ the field the road runs _by_.' The Lady of Shalott was, it seems, a spinster who had, under some unnamed penalty, a certain web to weave. 'Underneath the bearded barley, The reaper, reaping late and early, Hears her ever chanting cheerly, Like an angel singing clearly.... 'No time has she for sport or play, A charmèd web she weaves alway; A curse is on her if she stay Her weaving either night or day.... 'She knows not'-- Poor lady, nor we either-- 'She knows not what that curse may be, Therefore she weaveth steadily; Therefore no other care has she The Lady of Shalott.' A knight, however, happens to ride past her window, coming ----'from Camelot;[P] From the bank, and _from_ the _river_, He flashed _into_ the crystal _mirror_-- "Tirra lirra, tirra _lirra_," (_lirrar_?) Sang Sir Launcelot.'--p. 15. The lady stepped to the window to look at the stranger, and forgot for an instant her web:--the curse fell on her, and she died; why, how, and wherefore, the following stanzas will clearly and pathetically explain:-- 'A long drawn carol, mournful, holy, She chanted loudly, chanted lowly, Till her eyes were darkened _wholly_, And her smooth face sharpened _slowly_, Turned to towered Camelot. For ere she reached upon the tide The first house on the water side, Singing in her song she died, The Lady of Shalott! Knight and burgher, lord and dame, To the plankèd wharfage came; Below _the stern_ they read her name, The Lady of Shalott.'--p. 19.