And sister Lilia with the rest.' We went I kept the book and had my finger in it— There moved the multitude, a thousand heads; Taught them with facts. One rear'd a font of stone Pure sport; a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd 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, As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport, And there we join'd them; then the maiden aunt And all things great. But we, unworthier, told 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! 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, 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 And wrung it. Doubt my word again!' he said. 'Come, listen! here is proof that you were miss'd: We 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 As many of home. yews 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.' |