Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, TIME: AN ODE, by ALFRED TENNYSON


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TIME: AN ODE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: I see the chariot, where
Last Line: Live, when imperial time and death himself shall die!
Alternate Author Name(s): Tennyson, Lord Alfred; Tennyson, 1st Baron; Tennyson Of Aldworth And Farringford, Baron
Subject(s): Time


I SEE the chariot, where,
Throughout the purple air,
The forelock'd monarch rides:
Arm'd like some antique vehicle for war,
Time, hoary Time! I see thy scythed car,
In voiceless majesty,
Cleaving the clouds of ages that float by,
And change their many-colour'd sides,
Now dark, now dun, now richly bright,
In an ever-varying light.
The great, the lowly, and the brave
Bow down before the rushing force
Of thine unconquerable course;
Thy wheels are noiseless as the grave,
Yet fleet as Heaven's red bolt they hurry on,
They pass above us, and are gone!

Clear is the track which thou hast past;
Strew'd with the wrecks of frail renown,
Robe, sceptre, banner, wreath, and crown,
The pathway that before thee lies,
An undistinguishable waste,
Invisible to human eyes,
Which fain would scan the various shapes which glide
In dusky cavalcade,
Imperfectly descried,
Through that intense, impenetrable shade.

Four grey steeds thy chariot draw;
In th' obdurate, tameless jaw
Their rusted iron bits they sternly champ;
Ye may not hear the echoing tramp
Of their light-bounding, windy feet,
Upon that cloudy pavement beat.
Four wings have each, which, far outspread,
Receive the many blasts of heav'n,
As with unwearied speed,
Throughout the long extent of ether driven,
Onward they rush for ever and for aye:
Thy voice, thou mighty Charioteer!
Always sounding in their ear,
Throughout the gloom of night and heat of day.

Fast behind thee follows Death,
Thro' the ranks of wan and weeping,
That yield their miserable breath,
On with his pallid courser proudly sweeping.
Arm'd is he in full mail,
Bright breast-plate and high crest,
Nor is the trenchant falchion wanting:
So fiercely does he ride the gale,
On Time's dark car, before him, rest
The dew-drops of his charger's panting.

On, on they go along the boundless skies,
All human grandeur fades away
Before their flashing, fiery, hollow eyes;
Beneath the terrible control
Of those vast armed orbs, which roll
Oblivion on the creatures of a day.
Those splendid monuments alone he spares,
Which, to her deathless votaries,
Bright Fame, with glowing hand, uprears
Amid the waste of countless years.

'Live ye!' to these he crieth; 'live!
To ye eternity I give --
Ye, upon whose blessed birth
The noblest star of heaven hath shone;
Live, when the ponderous pyramids of earth
Are crumbling in oblivion!
Live, when, wrapt in sullen shade,
The golden hosts of heaven shall fade;
Live, when you gorgeous sun on high
Shall veil the sparkling of his eye!
Live, when imperial Time and Death himself shall die!







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