And that sweet new-born immortality
Now with full love her rested spirit fed.
Then in that concourse did she lift her head,
And stood at last a very goddess there,
And all cried out at seeing her grown so fair.”
This is the inspiration of true poetry. Nothing at all approaching it can be found throughout the poetry of Tennyson.
In contrast to the soul led by divine love, the poet depicts her sisters devoured by envy and hatred, until, deceiving themselves the while with the dream that they too were objects of delight to divine love, the one having reached “the bare cliff’s rugged brow,” her end of life,
“She cried aloud, ‘O Love! receive me now,
Who am not all unworthy to be thine.’
And with that word her jewelled arms did shine