And sister Lilia with the rest.' We went
I kept the book and had my finger in it

Down thro' the park. Strange was the sight to me;
For all the sloping pasture murmur'd, sown
With happy faces and with holiday.

There moved the multitude, a thousand heads;
The patient leaders of their Institute

Taught them with facts. One rear'd a font of stone
And drew, from butts of water on the slope,
The fountain of the moment, playing, now
A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls,
Or steep-up spout whereon the gilded ball
Danced like a wisp; and somewhat lower down
A man with knobs and wires and vials fired
A cannon; Echo answer'd in her sleep
From hollow fields; and here were telescopes
For azure views; and there a group of girls
In circle waited, whom the electric shock
Dislink'd with shrieks and laughter; round the lake
A little clock-work steamer paddling plied
And shook the lilies; perch'd about the knolls
A dozen angry models jetted steam;
A petty railway ran; a fire-balloon
Rose gem-like up before the dusky groves
And dropt a fairy parachute and past;
And there thro' twenty posts of telegraph
They flash'd a saucy message to and fro
Between the mimic stations; so that sport

Went hand in hand with science; otherwhere

Pure sport; a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd
And stump'd the wicket; babies roll'd about
Like tumbled fruit in grass; and men and maids
Arranged a country dance, and flew thro' light
And shadow, while the twangling violin
Struck up with Soldier-laddie, and overhead
The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime

Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end.

Strange was the sight and smacking of the time;
And long we gazed, but satiated at length
Came to the ruins. High-arch'd and ivy-claspt,
Of finest Gothic lighter than a fire,

Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave
The park, the crowd, the house; but all within
The sward was trim as any garden lawn.

And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth,

And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends

From neighbor seats; and there was Ralph himself,
A broken statue propt against the wall,

As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport,
Half child, half woman as she was, had wound
A scarf of orange round the stony helm,
And robed the shoulders in a rosy silk,
That made the old warrior from his ivied nook
Glow like a sunbeam. Near his tomb a feast
Shone, silver-set; about it lay the guests,

And there we join'd them; then the maiden aunt
Took this fair day for text, and from it preach'd
An universal culture for the crowd,

And all things great. But we, unworthier, told
Of college: he had climb'd across the spikes,
And he had squeezed himself betwixt the bars,
And he had breathed the Proctor's dogs; and one
Discuss'd his tutor, rough to common men,

But honeying at the whisper of a lord;
And one the Master, as a rogue in grain
Veneer'd with sanctimonious theory.

But while they talk'd, above their heads I saw The feudal warrior lady-clad; which brought My book to mind, and opening this I read Of old Sir Ralph a page or two that rang With tilt and tourney; then the tale of her That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls, And much I praised her nobleness, and Where,' Ask'd Walter, patting Lilia's head — she lay

Beside him ' lives there such a woman now?'

Quick answer'd Lilia: There are thousands

now

Such women, but convention beats them down; It is but bringing up; no more than that.

You men have done it how I hate

you

all!

Ah, were I something great! I wish I were Some mighty poetess, I would shame you then, That love to keep us children! O, I wish That I were some great princess, I would build Far off from men a college like a man's,

And I would teach them all that men are taught;

We are twice as quick!' And here she shook aside The hand that play'd the patron with her curls.

And one said smiling: Pretty were the sight If our old halls could change their sex, and flaunt With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans, And sweet girl-graduates in their golden hair. I think they should not wear our rusty gowns, But move as rich as Emperor-moths, or Ralph Who shines so in the corner; yet I fear, If there were many Lilias in the brood, However deep you might embower the nest, Some boy would spy it.'

At this upon the sward

She tapt her tiny silken-sandall'd foot:

'That's your light way; but I would make it death For any male thing but to peep at us.'

Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh'd; A rosebud set with little wilful thorns,

And sweet as English air could make her, she!
But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her,
And 'petty Ogress,' and 'ungrateful Puss,'
And swore he long'd at college, only long'd,
All else was well, for she-society.
They boated and they cricketed; they talk'd
At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics;

They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans;
They rode; they betted; made a hundred friends,

And caught the blossom of the flying terms,
But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place,
The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke,
Part banter, part affection.

True,' she said,

"We doubt not that. O, yes, you miss'd us much! I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did.'

She held it out; and as a parrot turns
Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving eye,
And takes a lady's finger with all care,
And bites it for true heart and not for harm,
So he with Lilia's. Daintily she shriek'd
And wrung it.

Doubt my word again!' he said.

'Come, listen! here is proof that you were miss'd: We

'e seven stay'd at Christmas up to read;

And there we took one tutor as to read.

The hard-grain'd Muses of the cube and square Were out of season; never man, I think,

So moulder'd in a sinecure as he;

For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet,

And our long walks were stript as bare as brooms,
We did but talk you over, pledge you all
In wassail; often, like as many girls-
Sick for the hollies and the yews of home
As many little trifling Lilias-play'd
Charades and riddles as at Christmas here,

And what's my thought and when and where and how,
And often told a tale from mouth to mouth

As here at Christmas.'