Explore "Idylls of the King" by Alfred Tennyson on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
O purblind race of miserable men, / How many among us at this very hour / Do forge a life-long trouble for ourselves, / By taking true for false, or false for true; / Here, through the feeble twilight of this world / Groping, how many, until we pass and reach / That other, where we see as we are seen!
So fared it with Geraint, who issuing forth / That morning, when they both had got to horse, / Perhaps because he loved her passionately, / And felt that tempest brooding round his heart, / Which, if he spoke at all, would break perforce / Upon a head so dear in thunder, said: / "Not at my side. I charge thee ride before, / Ever a good way on before; and this / I charge thee, on thy duty as a wife, / Whatever happens, not to speak to me, / No, not a word!" and Enid was aghast; / And forth they rode, but scarce three paces on, / When crying out, "Effeminate as I am, / I will not fight my way with gilded arms, / All shall be iron;" he loosed a mighty purse, / Hung at his belt, and hurled it toward the squire.