VIII. SHE came to the village church, And sat by a pillar alone An angel watching an urn Wept over her, carved in stone; And once, but once, she lifted her eyes, And suddenly, sweetly, strangely blush'd To find they were met by my own; And suddenly, sweetly, my heart beat stronger And thicker, until I heard no longer The snowy-banded, dilettante, Delicate-handed priest intone; And thought, is it pride, and mused and sigh'd 'No surely, now it cannot be pride.' IX. I was walking a mile, More than a mile from the shore, The sun look'd out with a smile, Betwixt the cloud and the moor, And riding at set of day Over the dark moor land, Rapidly riding far away, She waved to me with her hand. There were two at her side, Something flash'd in the sun, Down by the hill I saw them ride, In a moment they were gone: Like a sudden spark Struck vainly in the night, And back returns the dark With no more hope of light. SICK, am I sick of a jealous dread? Was not one of the two at her side Whose old grandfather has lately died, Grimy nakedness dragging his trucks And laying his trams in a poison'd gloom Wrought, till he crept from a gutted mine 'Master of half a servile shire, And left his coal all turn'd into gold To a grandson, first of his noble line, Rich in the grace all women desire, Strong in the power that all men adore, And soften as if to a girl, and hold Seeing his gewgaw castle shine, New as his title, built last year, There amid perky larches and pine, And over the sullen-purple moor (Look at it) pricking a cockney ear. 2. What, has he found my jewel out? For one of the two that rode at her side Bound for the Hall, I am sure was he: Bound for the Hall, and I think for a bride. Blithe would her brother's acceptance be. Maud could be gracious too, no doubt, To a lord, a captain, a padded shape, |