Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names, Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park, Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time; clime and age And on the tables every Jumbled together; celts and calumets, Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries, Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere, The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs From the isles of palm: and higher on the walls, Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer, His own forefathers' arms and armour hung. And this,' he said, 'was Hugh's at Agincourt; And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon: A good knight he! we keep a chronicle With all about him' which he brought, and I Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings And, I all rapt in this, 'Come out,' he said, 'To the Abbey: there is Aunt Elizabeth 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 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, from 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 They flash'd a saucy message to and fro Like tumbled fruit in grass; and men and maids Arranged a country dance, and flew thro' light 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 Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave The sward was trim as any garden lawn: And here we lit on Aunt Elizabeth, And Lilia with the rest, and 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 squeez'd 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 |