For a sketch of the life of Tennyson, see Book V, page 102.
BREAK, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me.
O well for the fisherman’s boy That he shouts with his sister at play! O well for the sailor lad That he sings in his boat on the bay!
And the stately ships go on To their haven under the hill: But O for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!
Break, break, break, At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me.
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE was born in the year 1564, at Stratford-on-Avon, in England. Queen Elizabeth was on the throne then, and it was one of the most brilliant periods in all English history. The poems and plays that Shakespeare wrote are the greatest in the English language, and one cannot appreciate the best there is in literature unless he has studied them. It is strange that no one thought, in the time that he lived, of writing his history, so that we might know as much about him and his boyhood as we do of most other great men.
Stratford is in the heart of England, and the stream of Avon winds through a beautiful country. There were two famous old castles near by, which had been peopled by knights in armor, and out of whose great stone gateways they had ridden to battle.
We are sure that Shakespeare loved to listen to the tales of these old battles, for in later years he based several of his great historical plays upon them.
One of these plays is called “Richard III.,” and part of the scenes are laid in the old Warwick Castle, near his home. He tells how the young son of the Duke of Clarence was kept a prisoner in one of the great gloomy towers, by the wicked Duke of Gloucester, who afterward became King Richard III.; and the play ends with the Battle of Bosworth Field, where King Richard is slain.
We know that Shakespeare was fond of the woods and the fields, for his plays are filled with charming descriptions of their beauty. The forest of Arden was near Stratford, and its streams and woods filled him with such delight that when he became a man he made them forever famous by writing a play called “As You Like It,” the most beautiful scenes of which are laid in this forest.
