Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 2 of 2.djvu/149

 "But thou canst answer not again. With thine own weapon art thou slain, Or thou wilt answer but in vain.

"The doubt would rest, I dare not solve. In the same circle we revolve. Assurance only breeds resolve."

As when a billow, blown against, Falls back, the voice with which I fenced A little ceased, but recommenced.

"Where wert thou when thy father play'd In his free field, and pastime made, A merry boy in sun and shade?

"A merry boy they called him then. He sat upon the knees of men In days that never come again.