The Soul of the Rose (1908), by J.W. Waterhouse “And the soul of the rose went into my blood” isa ph

The Soul of the Rose (1908), by J.W. Waterhouse “And the soul of the rose went into my blood” isa phrase from one of Alfred Tennyson’s most famous poems: “Maud”.  Waterhouse made a lot of paintings that wereinspired by the poetry of Lord Tennyson and this is one of them.  Here, he just used it as a vehicle to combinethe typical Pre-Raphaelite themes of feminine beauty and the beauty of nature.  Other references to the poem are lacking.  It is also a perfect example of how Waterhouseconveyed the sense of smell to a painting.From “Maud, Part One” by Alfred Lord Tennyson(1855)Come into thegarden, Maud,For the black bat,Night, has flown,Come into thegarden, Maud,I am here at thegate alone;And the woodbinespices are wafted abroad,And the musk ofthe roses blown.For a breeze ofmorning moves,And the planet ofLove is on high,Beginning to faintin the light that she lovesOn a bed ofdaffodil sky,To faint in thelight of the sun she loves,To faint in hislight, and to die.All night have theroses heardThe flute, violin,bassoon;All night has thecasement jessamine stirr’dTo the dancersdancing in tuneTill a silencefell with the waking bird,And a hush withthe setting moon.I said to thelily, “There is but oneWith whom she hasheart to be gay.When will thedancers leave her alone?She is weary ofdance and play. ”Now half to thesetting moon are gone,And half to therising day;Low on the sandand loud on the stoneThe last wheelechoes away.I said to therose, “The brief night goesIn babble andrevel and wine.O young lordlover,what sighs are thoseFor one that willnever be thine?But mine, butmine,” so I swear to the rose,“For ever andever, mine. ”And the soul ofthe rose went into my blood,As the musicclash’d in the hall;And long by thegarden lake I stood,For I heard yourrivulet fallFrom the lake tothe meadow and on to the wood,Our wood, that isdearer than all;From the meadowyour walks have left so sweetThat whenever aMarch-wind sighsHe sets thejewelprint of your feetIn violets blue asyour eyes,To the woodyhollows in which we meetAnd the valleys ofParadise.The slender acaciawould not shakeOne longmilk-bloom on the tree;The whitelake-blossom fell into the lake,As the pimperneldozed on the lea;But the rose wasawake all night for your sake,Knowing yourpromise to me;The lilies androses were all awake,They sigh’d forthe dawn and thee.Queen rose of therosebud garden of girls,Come hither, thedances are done,In gloss of satinand glimmer of pearls,Queen lily androse in one;Shine out, littlehead, sunning over with curls,To the flowers,and be their sun.There has fallen asplendid tearFrom thepassion-flower at the gate.She is coming, mydove, my dear;She is coming, mylife, my fate;The red rosecries, “She is near, she is near;”And the white roseweeps, “She is late;”The larkspurlistens, “I hear, I hear;”And the lilywhispers, “I wait.”She is coming, myown, my sweet;Were it ever soairy a treat,My heart wouldhear her and beat,Were it earth inan earthy bed;My dust would hearher and beat,Had I lain for acentury dead;Would start andtremble under her feet,And blossom inpurple and red. -- source link

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