Get out the microscope, because we’re going through this poem line-by-line.
Lines 1365-1380
So many worlds, so much to do,
So little done, such things to be,
How know I what had need of thee,
For thou wert strong as thou wert true?
The fame is quench'd that I foresaw,
The head hath miss'd an earthly wreath:
I curse not nature, no, nor death;
For nothing is that errs from law.
We pass; the path that each man trod
Is dim, or will be dim, with weeds:
What fame is left for human deeds
In endless age? It rests with God.
O hollow wraith of dying fame,
Fade wholly, while the soul exults,
And self-infolds the large results
Of force that would have forged a name.
- There's so many worlds and so much to do, the speaker remarks.
- He acknowledges that he has no idea if Arthur had a higher purpose, if something or someone else out there needed him for something.
- The fame or great reputation that Tennyson thought he saw for Arthur has been extinguished.
- Plus, Arthur isn't getting an "earthly wreath." We think this means he's not going to be figuratively crowned with laurel, a gesture of honor or victory in ancient Greece. (In fact, it will be Tennyson who will wear a figurative laurel crown when he's made Poet Laureate of England.)
- He can't be angry with nature, or even with death itself, for taking Arthur away because these two forces have to follow a law—presumably one that is set down by God.
- Only God knows that for sure what will be left over of human deeds in the afterlife: "It rests with God."