They flashed a saucy message to and fro 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-arched and ivy-claspt, Of finest Gothic, lighter than a fire, Through one wide chasm of time and frost they gave The park, the crowd, the house; but all within And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends From neighbor seats: and there was Ralph himself, That made the old warrior from his ivied nook And there we joined them: then the maiden Aunt And all things great; but we, unworthier, told But honeying at the whisper of a lord; But while they talked, 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," Asked Walter, patting Lilia's head, (she lay Beside him,) "lives there such a woman now?” Quick answered 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 played 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-sandaled 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 laughed; A rosebud set with little wilful thorns, And sweet as English air could make her, she : They boated and they cricketed; they talked They lost their weeks; they vext the souls of deans; "True," she said, "We doubt not that. O yes, you missed 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. So mouldered in a sinecure as he: For while our cloisters echoed frosty feet, Sick for the hollies and the yews of home- 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." She remembered that: A pleasant game, she thought: she liked it more But these what kind of tales did men tell men, She wondered, by themselves? A half-disdain Perched on the pouted blossom of her lips: "Kill him now, The tyrant! kill him in the summer too," Grave, solemn!” Walter warped his mouth at this Hid in the ruins; till the maiden Aunt Or be yourself your hero if you will.” Grand, epic, homicidal; and be you The Prince to win her! "Then follow me, the Prince," I answered; " each be hero in his turn! Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream.— But something made to suit with time and place, A talk of college and of ladies' rights, A feudal knight in silken masquerade, And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments, For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them all,— 6 This were a medley! we should have him back So I began, And the rest followed; and the women sang I. A PRINCE I was, blue-eyed, and fair in face, There lived an ancient legend in our house. Dying, that none of all our blood should know |