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 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

That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls, And much I praised her nobleness, and Where,' Ask'd Walter,' lives there such a woman now?'

Quick answer'd Lilia, 'There are thousands now but convention beats them down :

Such women,

It is but bringing up; no more than that:
You men have done it: how I hate you all!
O were I some great Princess, I would build
Far off from men a college of my own,

And I would teach them all things: you should see.'

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-sandal'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 seven stay'd at Christmas up to read;

We seven took one tutor. Never man

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,