MATTHEW ARNOLD 1822-1888 ARNOLD was the son of Dr. Thomas Arnold, the famous Head Master of Rugby. His early training was received at Winchester and at Rugby, and afterwards he went to Oxford, where he won a fellowship. Not very long after he left Oxford he was appointed inspector of schools by the government. His best energies were given to the duties of this position during a period of thirty years. These years of toil were a solid contribution to the workaday side of life. During this period his literary faculties, however, were far from idle. Besides his poetry he wrote many essays, which give him an exceedingly high place as a literary critic. Arnold's literary work does not fill a very wide space. Two or three volumes will contain his chief essays, while his poetry may be put into a still smaller compass. Among his poems, the best known are Sohrab and Rustum, The Scholar-Gipsy, Rugby Chapel, and The Forsaken Merman. These poems do not place Arnold among the greatest poets of the century, but their earnestness, elevation, delicacy of feeling, grace, and pathos appeal strongly to readers of cultivated tastes. THE FORSAKEN MERMAN COME, dear children, let us away; Now my brothers call from the bay, 5 Champ and chafe and toss in the spray. Children dear, let us away! This way, this way! Call her once before you go Call once yet! In a voice that she will know: "Margaret! Margaret!" Children's voices should be dear (Call once more) to a mother's ear; This way, this way! "Mother dear, we cannot stay! The wild white horses foam and fret." Come, dear children, come away down; One last look at the white-wall'd town, 25 And the little grey church on the windy shore; She will not come though you call all day; Where the spent lights quiver and gleam, Where the sea-beasts, ranged all round, Children dear, was it yesterday (Call yet once) that she went away? Once she sate with you and me, On a red gold throne in the heart of the sea, And the youngest sate on her knee. She comb'd its bright hair, and she tended it well, When down swung the sound of a far-off bell. 40 45 50 She sigh'd, she look'd up through the clear green sea; 55 She said: "I must go, for my kinsfolk pray In the little grey church on the shore to-day. Children dear, were we long alone? "The sea grows stormy, the little ones moan; 60 65 Where the sea-stocks bloom, to the white-wall'd town; Through the narrow paved streets, where all was still, 70 To the little grey church on the windy hill. From the church came a murmur of folk at their prayers, We climb'd on the graves, on the stones worn with rains, She sate by the pillar; we saw her clear: For her eyes were seal'd to the holy book! Come away, come down, call no more! Down, down, down! 75 80 85 Down to the depths of the sea! She sits at her wheel in the humming town, Singing most joyfully. Hark what she sings: "O joy, O joy, For the humming street, and the child with its toy! 90 For the priest, and the bell, and the holy well; She steals to the window, and looks at the sand, And over the sand at the sea; And her eyes are set in a stare; 100 From a sorrow-clouded eye, And a heart sorrow-laden, A long, long sigh; For the cold strange eyes of a little Mermaiden Come away, away children; She will start from her slumber A ceiling of amber, A pavement of pearl. 105 110 115 |