Till all the hundred summers pass, The beams, that thro’ the Oriel shine, Make prisms in every carven glass, And beaker brimm’d with noble wine. Each baron at the banquet sleeps, Grave faces gather’d in a ring. His state the king reposing keeps. He must have been a jovial king.[1] 6 All round a hedge upshoots, and shows At distance like a little wood; Thorns, ivies, woodbine, misletoes, 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. 7 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 there place remain, As all were order’d, ages since. Come, Care and Pleasure, Hope and Pain, And bring the fated fairy Prince. [1] All editions up to and including 1851:—He must have been a jolly king. The Sleeping Beauty (First printed in 1830, but does not reappear again till 1842. No alteration since 1842.) 1 Year after year unto her feet, She lying on her couch alone, Across the purpled coverlet, The maiden’s jet-black hair has grown,[1] On either side her tranced form Forth streaming from a braid of pearl: The slumbrous light is rich and warm, And moves not on the rounded curl. 2 The silk star-broider’d[2]coverlid Unto her limbs itself doth mould Languidly ever; and, amid Her full black ringlets downward roll’d, Glows forth each softly-shadow’d arm, With bracelets of the diamond bright: Her constant beauty doth inform Stillness with love, and day with light. 3 She sleeps: her breathings are not heard In palace chambers far apart.[3] The fragrant tresses are not stirr’d That lie upon her charmed heart. She sleeps: on either hand[4] upswells The gold-fringed pillow lightly prest: She sleeps, nor dreams, but ever dwells A perfect form in perfect rest. [1] 1830. The while she slumbereth alone, _Over_ the purple coverlet, The maiden’s jet-black hair hath grown. [2] 1830. Star-braided. [3] A writer in _Notes and Queries_, February, 1880, asks whether these lines mean that the lovely princess did _not_ snore so loud that she could be heard from one end of the palace to the other and whether it would not have detracted from her charms had that state of things been habitual. This brings into the field Dr. Gatty and other admirers of Tennyson, who, it must be owned, are not very successful in giving a satisfactory reply. [4] 1830. Side. The Arrival (No alteration after 1853.) 1 All precious things, discover’d 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. 2