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 CASSELL'S NATIONAL LIBRARY. 
 
 THE 
 
 Angel in the House. 
 
 ry 
 COVENTRY PATMORi:. 
 
 Par la grace infiaie, Dieu les mist au monde ensemble." 
 
 Eousier des Dames. 
 
 CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited 
 
 LOXDON, PARIS, yElV YORK £ MELBOURSE. 
 1887.
 
 Colleg^e 
 Library 
 
 mi 
 
 THISPOEM 
 
 IS IXSCUIBED 
 
 TO 
 
 THE MEMORY OF HER 
 
 BY WHOM AND FOR WHOM I BECAME A FOET. 
 
 \^ ! H
 
 INTEODUCTION. 
 
 There could be but one answer to the suoforestion 
 of ]Mr. Coventry Patmore that Lis " Ancjel in 
 the House " might usefully have a place in this 
 " National Library." The suggestion was made 
 with the belief that wide and cheap diffusion would 
 not take from the value of a copyright library 
 edition, while the best use of writing is ful tilled by 
 the spreading of verse dedicated to the sacred love 
 of home. The two parts of the Poem appeared 
 in 1854 and 1856, were afterwards elaborately 
 revised, and have since obtained a permanent 
 place among the Home Books of the English 
 People. Our readers will jom, surely, in thanks 
 to the author for the present he has made us. 
 
 H. M.
 
 CONTENTS, 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 THE PROLOGUE 
 
 CANTO 
 
 I. THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Impossibility 
 
 2. Love's Reality 
 
 3. The Poet's Confidence 
 Tfie Cathedral Close 
 
 II. MARY AND MILDRED 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Paragon 
 
 2. Love at Large 
 
 3. Love and Duty 
 
 4. A Distinction 
 Mary and Mildred 
 
 III. HONORIA 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Lover . 
 
 2. Love a Virtue 
 
 3. The Attainment 
 Honoria . 
 
 IV. THE MORNING CALL 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Rose of the World 
 
 2. The Tribute 
 
 3. Compensation 
 The Morning Call 
 
 Y. THE VIOLETS 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Comparison . 
 
 2. Love in Tears 
 
 3. Prospective Faith . 
 
 4. Venus Victrix 
 The Violets 
 
 PAGE 
 
 13
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CANTO 
 
 VI. THE DEAN . 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Perfect Love rare 
 
 2. Love Justified 
 
 3. Love Serviceable . 
 
 4. A Riddle Solved . 
 The Dean 
 
 YII. ^TNA AND THE MOON 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Love's Immortality 
 
 2. Heaven and Eartli 
 ^tna and the Moon 
 
 nil. SARUM PLAIN 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Life of Life 
 
 2. The Revelation . 
 
 3. Tlie Spirits Epochs 
 
 4. The Prototype 
 
 5. The Praise of Love 
 Saruni Plain 
 
 IX. .SAHARA 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Wife's Tragedy 
 
 2. Common Graces . 
 
 3. The Zest of Life . 
 
 4. Fool and Wise 
 Sahara . 
 
 X. GOING TO CHURCH 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Joyful "Wisdom 
 
 2. The Devices 
 Going to Church 
 
 XL THE DANCE . 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Daughter of Eve 
 
 2. Aurea Dicta 
 The Dance 
 
 XII. THE ABDICATION . 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Chace . 
 
 2. Denied 
 
 3. The Churl . 
 The Abdication . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 53
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK II. 
 THE PROLOGUE 
 
 CANTO 
 
 I. ACCEPTED . 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Song of Songs 
 
 2. The Kites . 
 
 3. Orpheus 
 
 4. Nearest the Dearest 
 
 5. Perspective 
 
 Accepted .... 
 II. THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE 
 Preludes- : 
 
 1. The Changed Allegiance 
 
 2. Beauty 
 
 3. Lais and Lucretia 
 The Course of True Love 
 
 III. THE COUNTY BALL 
 Preludes ; 
 
 1 . Love Ceremonious 
 
 2. The Rainbow 
 
 3. A Paradox . 
 The County Ball 
 
 IV. LOVE IN IDLENESS 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Honour and Desert 
 
 2. Love and Honour 
 
 3. Valour Misdirected 
 Love in Idleness 
 
 V. THE QUEEN'S ROOM 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Rejected . 
 
 2. Rachel 
 
 3. The Heart's Prophecies 
 The Queen's Room 
 
 VI. THE LOVE-LETTERS 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Love's Perversity . 
 
 2. The Power of Love 
 The Love-Letters 
 
 VII. THE REVULSION . 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Joy and Us^ 
 
 2. 'She was Ml. e' . 
 The Revulsion .
 
 xii ■ CONTENTS. 
 
 
 CANTO 
 
 Vlir. THE KOH-I-XOOR . 
 
 PAGE 
 
 . 15S 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. In Love . . . . . 
 
 2. Love Tliiiiking . 
 
 3. The Kiss .... 
 
 . 158 
 . 160 
 . 161 
 
 The Koh-i-noor .... 
 
 . ] 01 
 
 IX. THE FRIENDS 
 
 . 165 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Nursling of Civility . 
 
 •2. The Foreign Land 
 
 3. Disappointment . 
 The Friends .... 
 
 . 165 
 . 166 
 . 166 
 . 167 
 
 X. THE EPITAPH 
 
 . 170 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. Frost in Harvest . 
 
 2. Felicity .... 
 
 3. Marriage Indissoluble 
 
 . 170 
 . 171 
 . 172 
 
 The Epitaph .... 
 
 . 172 
 
 XT THE WEDDING 
 
 . 176 
 
 Pieludes : 
 
 1. Platonic Love 
 
 2. A Demonstration . 
 
 3. The Symbol 
 
 4. Constancy Rewarded 
 
 The Wedding .... 
 
 . 176 
 . 177 
 . 17S 
 
 . i:s 
 
 . 179 
 
 Xn. HUSBAND AND WIFE . 
 
 . 1S3 
 
 Preludes : 
 
 1. The Ma;ried Lover 
 
 2. The Amaranth 
 Husband and Wife 
 
 . 1S3 
 . 184 
 . 185 
 
 The Epilogue .... 
 
 . 189
 
 The Angel in the House, 
 
 THE PEOLOGUE. 
 
 1 
 
 Mine is no liorse witli wings, to gaiii 
 
 ' The region of the spheral chime ; 
 He does but drag a rumbling wain, 
 
 ' Cheer'd by the coupled bells of rhyme ; 
 And if at Fame's bewitching note 
 
 ' My homely Pegasus pricks an ear, 
 The world's cart-collar hugs his throat, 
 
 ' And he's too wise to prance or rear.' 
 
 Thus ever answer'd Yaughan his Wife, 
 Who, more than he, desired his fame ; 
 
 But, in his heart, his thoughts were rife 
 How for her sake to earn a name.
 
 14 ■ THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 With bays poetic three times crowu'd, 
 
 And other college honours won, 
 He, if he chose, miglit be reno^rn'd, 
 
 He ]iad but little doubt, she none ; 
 And in a loftier phrase he talk'd 
 
 With her, upon their Wedding-Day, 
 (The eighth), while through the fields they 
 walk'd, 
 
 Their children shouting by the way. 
 
 ' Xot careless of tlie gift of song, 
 ' Nor out of love with noble fame, 
 
 ' I, meditating much and long 
 
 ' What I should sing, how win a name, 
 
 * Considering well what theme unsung, 
 
 'What reason worth the cost of rhyme, 
 ' Remains to loose the poet's tongue 
 
 ' In these last days, the dregs of time, 
 'Learn that to me, tliough born so late, 
 
 ' There does, beyond desert, befall 
 
 * (May my great fortune make me great !) 
 
 ' The first of themes, sung last of all. 
 
 * In green and undiscover'd ground, 
 
 ' Yet near where many others sing, 
 *I have the very well-head found 
 
 ' Whence gushes the Pierian Spring/
 
 THE PEOLOGUE. 15 
 
 Tlien slie : * What is it, Dear ? The Life 
 ' Of Arthur, or Jerusalem's Fall ? ' 
 
 ' Neither : your gentle self, my Wife, 
 ' And love, that grows from one to all. 
 
 * And if I faithfully proclaim 
 
 ' Of these the exceeding worthiness, 
 
 * Surely the sweetest wreath of Fame 
 
 ' Shall, to your hope, my brows caress ; 
 
 * And if, by virtue of my choice 
 
 ' Of this, the most heart-touching theme 
 
 * That ever tuned a poet's voice, 
 
 ' I live, as I am bold to dream, 
 
 * To be delight to many days, 
 
 ' And into silence only cease 
 ' When those are still, who shared their bays 
 ' With Laura and with Beatrice, 
 
 * Imagine, Love, how learned men 
 
 ' Will deep-conceiv'd devices find, 
 
 * Beyond my purpose and my ken, 
 
 ' An ancient bard of simple mind. 
 
 * Tou, Sweet, his Mistress, Wife, and Muse, 
 
 ' Were you for mortal woman meant ? 
 
 * Tour praises give a hundred clues 
 
 ' To mythological intent I
 
 16 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' And, severing thus tlie truth from trope, 
 ' In you the Commentators see 
 
 * Outlines occult of abstract scope, 
 
 ' A future for philosophy ! 
 
 * Your arm's on mine ! these are the meads 
 
 ' In which we pass our living days ; 
 
 * There Avon runs, now hid with reeds, 
 
 ' Now brightly brimming pebbly bays ; 
 ' Those are our children's songs that come 
 
 ' With bells and Heatings of the sheep ; 
 ' And there, in yonder English home, 
 
 ' We thrive on mortal food and sleep 1 ' 
 She laugh'd. How proud she always was 
 
 To feel how j)roud he was of her 1 
 But he had grown distraught, because 
 
 The Muse's mood began to stir. 
 
 His purpose with performance crown'd, 
 He to his well-pleased Wife rehears'd, 
 
 When next their Wedding-Day came round. 
 His leisure's labour, ' Book the First.'
 
 17 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Impossihility. 
 
 Lo, love's obey'cl by all. 'Tis riglit 
 
 That all should know what they obey. 
 Lest erring conscience clamp delight, 
 
 And folly laugh our joys away. 
 Thou Primal Love, who grantest wings 
 
 And voices to the woodland birds. 
 Grant me the power of saying things 
 
 Too simple and too sweet for words I 
 
 II. 
 
 Love's Bealihj. 
 
 I walk. I trust, with open eyes ; 
 
 I've travell'd half my worldly course ; 
 And in the way behind me lies 
 
 Much vanity and some remorse ;
 
 18 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 I've lived to feel how pride may part 
 
 Spirits, tlio' matcli'd like hand and glove ; 
 I've blush'd for love's abode, the heart,- 
 
 But have not disbelieved in love ; 
 ^N'or unto love, sole mortal thing 
 
 Of worth immortal, done the wrong 
 To count it, with the rest that sing. 
 
 Unworthy of a serious song ; 
 And love is my reward ; for now, 
 
 When most of dead'ning time complain, 
 The myrtle blooms upon my brow, 
 
 Its odour quickens all my brain. 
 
 III. 
 The Poefs Confidence. 
 The richest realm of all the earth 
 
 Is counted still a heathen land : 
 Lo, I, like Joshua, now go forth 
 
 To give it into Israel's hand. 
 I will not liearken blame or praise ; 
 
 For so should I dishonour do 
 To that sweet Power by wliicli these Lays 
 
 Alone are lovely, good, and true ; 
 !Nor credence to the world's cries give, 
 
 Which ever preach and still prevent 
 Pure passion's high prerogative 
 
 To make, not iollow, precedent.
 
 THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE. 19 
 
 From love's abysmal ether rare 
 
 If I to men have here made known 
 New truths, they, like new stars, were there 
 
 Before, though not yet written down. 
 Moving but as the feelings move, 
 
 I run, or loiter with delight, 
 Or pause to mark where gentle Love 
 
 Persuades the soul from height to height. 
 Yet, know ye, though my words are gay 
 
 As David's dance, which Michal scorn'd, 
 If kindly you receive the Lay, 
 
 You shall be sweetly help'd and warn'd. 
 
 THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE. 
 1 
 
 Once more I came to Sarum Close, 
 
 With joy half memory, half desire, 
 And breathed the sunny wind that rose 
 
 And blew the shadows o'er the Spire, 
 And toss'd the lilac's scented plumes, 
 
 And sway'd the chestnut's thousand cones. 
 And fill'd my nostrils with perfimies, 
 
 And shaped the clouds in waifs and zones,
 
 20 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 And wafted down tlie serions strain 
 Of Sanim bells, when, true to time, 
 
 I reacL'd the Dean's, witli heart and brain 
 That trembled to the trembling chime. 
 
 2 
 
 'Twas half my home, six years ago. 
 
 The six years had not alter'd it : 
 Hed-briek and ashlar, long and low, 
 
 "With dormers and with oriels lit. 
 Geraninm, lychnis, rose array'd 
 
 The windows, all wide open thrown ; 
 And some one in the Study play'd 
 
 The Wedding-March of Mendelssohn. 
 And there it was I last took leave : 
 
 'Twas Christmas : I remember'd now 
 The cruel girls, who feign'd to grieve, 
 
 Took down the evergreens ; and how 
 The liolly into blazes woke 
 
 The fire, lighting the large, low room, 
 A dim, rich lustre of old oak 
 
 And crimson velvet's glowing gloom. 
 
 3 
 
 Xo change had toucli'd Dean Churchill : kind, 
 By widowhood more t]mn winters bent, 
 
 And settled in a cheerful mind, 
 
 As still forecasting heaven's conter/.
 
 THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE. 21 
 
 Well mif^lit his thoughts be fix'd on high, 
 
 Xow she was there ! Within her face 
 Humility and dignity 
 
 Were met in a most sweet embrace. 
 She seem'd expressly sent below 
 
 To teach our erring minds to see 
 The rhythmic change of time's swift flow 
 
 As part of still eternity. 
 Her life, all honour, observed, with awe 
 
 Which cross experience could not mar. 
 The fiction of the Christian law 
 
 Tliat all men honourable are ; 
 And so lier smile at once conferr'd 
 
 High flattery and benign reproof ; 
 And I, a rude boy, strangely stirr'd. 
 
 Grew courtly in my own behoof. 
 The years, so far from doing her wrong, 
 
 Anointed her with gracious balm, 
 And made her brows more and more young 
 
 With wreaths of amaranth and palm. 
 
 4 
 
 Was this her eldest, Honor ; prude. 
 Who would not let me pull the swing ; 
 
 Who, kiss'd at Christmas, call'd me rr.de. 
 And, sobbing low, refused to sing ?
 
 22 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 How eliauged ! lu shape uo sleuder Grace, 
 
 But Yenus ; milder tliau the dove ; 
 Her mother's air ; her Xorman face ; 
 
 Her large sweet eyes, clear lakes of lore. 
 Mary I knew. In former time 
 
 Ailing and pale, she thought that bliss 
 Was only for a better clime, 
 
 And, heavenly overmuch, scom'd this. 
 I, rash with theories of the right, 
 
 Which stretch'd the tether of my Creed, 
 But did not break it, held delight 
 
 Half discipline. We disagreed. 
 She told the Dean 1 wanted grace. 
 
 Now she was kindest of the three, 
 And soft wild roses deck'd her face. 
 
 And, what, was this my Mildred, she 
 To herself and all a sweet surprise ? 
 
 My Pet, who romp'd and roll'd a hoop ? 
 I wonder' d where those daisy eyes 
 
 Had found their touching curve and droop. 
 
 Unmannerly times ! But now we sat 
 Stranger than strangers ; till I caught 
 
 And answer'd Mildred's smile ; and that 
 Sj^read to the rest, and freedom brought.
 
 THE CATHEDRAL CLOSE. 23 
 
 Tlie Dean talk'd little, looking on, 
 
 Of three such daughters justly vain. 
 What letters they had had from Bonn, 
 
 Said Mildred, and wliat plums from Spain I 
 By Honor I was kindly task'd 
 
 To excuse my never coming down 
 From Cambridge ; Mary smiled and ask'd 
 
 Were Kant and Goethe yet outgrown ? 
 And, pleased, we talk'd the old days o'er ; 
 
 And, parting, I for pleasure sigh'd. 
 To be there as a friend, (since more), 
 
 Seem'd then, seems still, excuse for pride ; 
 For something that abode endued 
 
 With temple-like repose, an air 
 Of life's kind purposes pursued 
 
 With order'd freedom sweet and fair. 
 A tent pitch'd in a world not right 
 
 It seem'd, whose inmates, every one, 
 On tranquil faces bore the light 
 
 Of duties beautifully done, 
 And humbly, though they had few peers, 
 
 Kept their own laws, which seem'd to be 
 The fair sum of six thousand years' 
 
 Traditions of civility.
 
 24 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 TJie Paragon. 
 
 When I beliold the skies aloft 
 
 Passing tlie pageantry of dreams, 
 The cloud whose bosom, cygnet-soft, 
 
 A couch for nuptial Juno seems. 
 The ocean broad, the mountains bright, 
 
 The shadowy A'ales with feeding herds, 
 I from my lyre the music smite, 
 
 Xor want for justly matching words. 
 All forces of the sea and air, 
 
 All interests of hill and plain, 
 I so can sing, in seasons fair, 
 
 That who hath felt may feel again. 
 Elated oft by such free songs, 
 
 I think with utterance free to raise 
 That hymn for which the whole world longs, 
 
 A worthy hymn in woman's praise ;
 
 PRELUDES. 25 
 
 A liymn briglit-noted like a bird's. 
 
 Arousing these song-sleepy times 
 Witli rhapsodies of perfect words, 
 
 Ruled by returning kiss of rhymes. 
 But when I look on her and hope 
 
 To tell with joy what I admire, 
 My thoughts lie cramp'd in narrow scope, 
 
 Or in the feeble birth expire ; 
 No mystery of well-woven speech. 
 
 No simplest phrase of tenderest fall, 
 No liken'd excellence can reach 
 
 Her, the most excellent of all, 
 The best half of creation's best, 
 
 Its heart to feel, its eye to see, 
 The crown and complex of the rest. 
 
 Its aim and its epitome. 
 Nay, might I utter my conceit, 
 
 'Twere after all a vulgar song. 
 For she's so simply, subtly sweet. 
 
 My deepest rax)ture does her wrong. 
 Yet is it now my chosen task 
 
 To sing her worth as Maid and Wife ; 
 Nor happier post than this I ask. 
 
 To live her laureate all my life. 
 On wings of love uplifted free, 
 
 And by her gentleness made grea 
 I'll teach how noble man should l)e 
 
 To match with such a lovely mate ;
 
 26 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 And tliGu in lier may move tlie more 
 
 Tlie woman's wisli to be desired, 
 (By praise increased), till both sliall soar, 
 
 With blissful emulations fired. 
 And, as geranium, pink, or rose 
 
 Is thrice itself through power of art, 
 So may my happy skill disclose 
 
 New fairness even in her fair heart ; 
 Until that churl shall nowhere be 
 
 "Who bends not, awed, before the throne 
 Of her affecting majesty, 
 
 So meek, so far unlike our own ; 
 Until (for who may hope too much 
 
 From her who wields the powers of lovt 
 Our lifted lives at last shall touch 
 
 That happy goal to which they move ; 
 Until we find, as darkness rolls 
 
 Away, and evil mists dissolve, 
 That nuptial contrasts are tlie poles 
 
 On which the heavenly spheres revolve. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love at Large. 
 
 Whene'er I come where ladies are, 
 How sad soever I was before, 
 
 Though like a ship frost-bound and far 
 Withheld in ice from the ocean's roar,
 
 PRELUDES. 27 
 
 Tiiird-winter'd in that dreadful dock, 
 
 Witli stiff en'd cordage, sails dccaj'd. 
 And crew that care for calm and shock 
 
 Alike, too dull to be dismay'd, 
 Yet, if I come where ladies are, 
 
 How sad soever I was before, 
 Then is my sadness banish'd far, 
 
 And I am like that ship no more ; 
 Or like that ship if the ice-field splits. 
 
 Burst by the sudden polar Spring, 
 And all thank God with their warming wits, 
 
 And kiss each other and dance and sing, 
 And hoist fresh sails, that make the breeze 
 
 Blow them along the liquid sea, 
 Out of the North, where life did freeze, 
 
 Into the haven where they would 1)6. 
 
 III. 
 
 Love and Duty. 
 
 Anne lived so truly from above, 
 
 She was so gentle and so good, 
 That duty bade me fall in love. 
 
 And ' but for that,' thought I, ' I should I ' 
 I worshipp'd Kate with all my will. 
 
 In idle moods you seem to see 
 A noble spirit in a hill, 
 
 A human touch about a tree.
 
 28 THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 rv. 
 
 A Distinction. 
 Tlie lack of lovely pride, in her 
 
 Who strives to please, my pleasure uumbs, 
 And still the maid I most prefer 
 
 "Whose care to please with pleasing comes. 
 
 MARY AXD MILDRED. 
 1 
 
 One morning, after Church. I walk'd 
 
 Alone with Mary on the lawn, 
 And felt myself, howe'er we talk'd. 
 
 To grave themes delicately drawn. 
 When she, delighted, found I knew 
 
 More of her peace than she supposed. 
 Our confidences heavenwards grew, 
 
 Like fox-glove buds, in pairs disclosed. 
 Our former faults did we confess, 
 
 Our ancient feud was more than heal'd, 
 And, with the woman's eagerness 
 
 For amity full-sign'd and seal'd, 
 Slie, offering up for sacrifice 
 
 Her heart's reserve, brought out to sliow 
 Some verses, made when she was ice 
 
 To all but Heaven, six years ago ;
 
 MARY AND MILDRED. 29 
 
 Since happier grown ! I took and read 
 The neat- writ lines. She, void of giiilo. 
 
 Too late repenting, blush'd, and said, 
 I must not think about the style. 
 
 2 
 
 • Day after day, until to-day, 
 
 ' Imaged the others gone before, 
 
 * The same dull task, the weary way, 
 
 ' The weakness pardon'd o'er and o'er, 
 
 ' The thwarted thirst, too faintly felt, 
 ' For joy's well-nigli forgotten life, 
 
 * The restless heart, which, when I knelt, 
 
 ' Made of my worship barren strife. 
 
 * Ah, whence to-day's so sweet release, 
 
 ' This clearance light of all my care, 
 ' This conscience free, this fertile peace, 
 ' These softly folded wings of prayer, 
 
 ' This calm and more than conquering love, 
 ' With which nought evil dares to cope, 
 
 • This joy that lifts no glance above, 
 
 ' For faith too sure, too sweet for hope ? 
 
 • 0, happy time, too happy change, 
 
 ' It will not live, though fondly nurst ! 
 ' Full soon the sun will seem as strange 
 ' As now the cloud which seems dispersed.
 
 30 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 3 
 
 She from a rose-tree shook ihe blight ; 
 
 And Tvell she knew that I kue\T well 
 Her grace with silence to requite ; 
 
 And, answering now the Inncheou bell, 
 I langli'd at Mildred's laugh, wliich made 
 
 All melaneholy wrong, its mood 
 Such sweet self-confidence display'd. 
 
 So glad a sense of present good. 
 
 4 
 I laugh'd and sigh'd : for I confess 
 
 I never went to Ball, or Fete, 
 Or Show, but in pursuit express 
 
 Of mj predestinated mate ; 
 And thus to me, wlio had in sight 
 
 The hapx3T chance upon the cards, 
 Eacli beauty blossom'd in the light 
 
 Of tender personal regards ; 
 And. in the records of my breast, 
 
 Red-letter"d, eminently fair. 
 Stood sixteen, who, beyond the rest. 
 
 By turns till then had been my care : 
 At Berlin three, one at St. Cloud, 
 
 At Chatteris, near Cambridge, one, 
 At Ely four, in London two, 
 
 Two at Bowness, in Paris none,
 
 MARY AND MILDKED. 31 
 
 And, last and best, in Sarum three ; 
 
 But dearest o£ the whole fair troop, 
 In judgment of the moment, she 
 
 Whose daisy eyes had learn'd to droop. 
 Her very faults my fancy fired ; 
 
 My loving will, so thwarted, grew ; 
 And, bent on worship, I admired 
 
 Whate'er she was, with partial view. 
 And yet when, as to-day, her smile 
 
 Was prettiest, I could not but note 
 Honoria, less admired the while, 
 
 Was lovelier, though from love remote.
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 %onoxia. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Lover. 
 
 He meets, by heavenly chance express, 
 
 The destined maid ; some hidden hand 
 Unveils to him that loveliness 
 
 Which others cannot understand. 
 His merits in her presence grow, 
 
 To match the promise in her eyes, 
 And round her happy footsteps bloTv 
 
 The authentic airs of Paradise. 
 For joy of her he cannot sleep ; 
 
 Her beauty haunts him all the night ; 
 It melts his heart, it makes him weep 
 
 For wonder, worship, and delight. 
 0, paradox of love, he longs. 
 
 Most humble when he most aspires, 
 To suffer scorn and cruel wrongs 
 
 From her he honours and desires.
 
 PRELUDES. 3J 
 
 Her graces make him rich, and. ask 
 
 No guerdon ; this imperial style 
 Affronts him ; he disdains to bask, 
 
 The pensioner of her priceless smile. 
 He prays for some hard thing to do, 
 
 Some work of fame and labour immense, 
 To stretch the languid bnlk and thew 
 
 Of love's fresh-born magnipotence. 
 No smallest boon were bought too dear, 
 
 Though barter'd for his love-sick life ; 
 Tet trusts he, with undaunted cheer. 
 
 To vanquish heaven, and call her "Wife 
 He notes how queens of sweetness still 
 
 Neglect their crowns, and stooj) to mate ; 
 How, self-consign'd with lavish will. 
 
 They ask but love prox3ortionate ; 
 How swift j)ursuit by small degrees, 
 
 Love's tactic, works like miracle ; 
 How valour, clothed in courtesies, 
 
 Brings down the haughtiest citadel ; 
 And therefore, though he merits not 
 
 To kiss the braid upon her skirt. 
 His hope, discouraged ne'er a jot, 
 
 Out- soars all possible desert. 
 
 -70
 
 34 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love a Virtue. 
 
 Strong passions mean weak will, and lie 
 
 Wlio truly kaows tlie strength and bKss 
 "Whicli are in love, will own witli me 
 
 No passion but a virtue 'tis. 
 Few hear my word ; it soars above 
 
 Tlie subtlest senses of the swarm 
 Of wretched things which know not love, 
 
 Their Psyche still a wingless worm. 
 Ice-cold seems heaven's noble glow 
 
 To spirits whose vital heat is hell ; 
 And to corrupt hearts even so 
 
 The songs I sing, the tale I teU. 
 These cannot see the robes of white 
 
 In which I sing of love. Alack, 
 But darkness shows in heavenly light. 
 
 Though whiteness, in the dark, is black ! 
 
 III. 
 
 The Attainment. 
 
 You love ? That's higli as you shaU go ; 
 
 For 'tis as true as Gospel text, 
 Not noble then is never so, 
 
 Either in this world or the next.
 
 HOXOEIA. 35 
 
 HOXORIA. 
 
 Giovrn weary with a week's exile 
 
 From those fair friends, I rode to see 
 The ehurch-restoriiigs ; lounged awhile, 
 
 And met the Dean ; was ask'd to tea, 
 And found their cousin, Frederick Graham 
 
 At Honor's side. Was I concern'd, 
 If, when she sang, his colour came, 
 
 That mine, as with a buffet, burn'd ? 
 A man to please a girl ! thought I, 
 
 Retorting his forced smiles, the shrouds 
 Of wrath, so hid as she was by, 
 
 Sweet moon between her lighted clouds 1 
 
 "Whether this Cousin was the cause 
 
 I know not, but I seem'd to see, 
 The first time then, how fair she was, 
 
 How much the fairest of the three. 
 Each stopp'd to let the other go ; 
 
 But, time-bound, he arose the first. 
 S'ay'd he in Sarum long ? If so 
 
 I hoped to see him at the Hurst.
 
 36 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 No : lie had call'd here, on his Tray 
 To Portsmouth, where the Arrogant, 
 
 His ship, was ; he should leave next day, 
 For two years' cniise in the Levant. 
 
 3 
 Had love in lier yet struck its germs ? 
 
 I watch'd. Her farewell show'd me plain 
 She loved, on the majestic terms 
 
 That she should not be loved again ; 
 And so her cousin, parting, felt. 
 
 Hope in his voice and eye was dead. 
 Compassion did my malice melt ; 
 
 Then went I home to a restless bed. 
 I, who admired her too, could see 
 
 His infinite remorse at this 
 Great mystery, tliat she should be 
 
 So beautiful, yet not be his, 
 And, pitying, long'd to plead his part : 
 
 But scarce could tell, so strange my whim, 
 Whether the weight upon my heart 
 
 Was sorrow for myself or him. 
 
 4 
 She was all mildness; yet 'twas wri: 
 
 In all her grace, most legibly, 
 ' He that's for heaven itseK unfit, 
 
 ' Let him not hope to merit me.'
 
 HOXORIA. S7 
 
 AndsTicli a challenge, quite apart 
 
 From thoughts of Ioa'c, humljled, and tluis 
 To sweet repentance moved my heart, 
 
 And made me more magnanimous, 
 And led me to review my life. 
 
 Inquiring where in aught the least, 
 If question were of her for wife, 
 
 111 might be mended, hope increas'd. 
 Xot that I soar'd so far above 
 
 Myself, as this great hope to dare ; 
 And yet I well foresaw that love 
 
 Might hope where reason must despair; 
 And, half -resenting the sweet pride 
 
 Which would not ask me to admire, 
 ' Oh,' to my secret heart I sigh'd, 
 
 ' T!iat I were worthy to desire ! ' 
 
 As drowsiness my brain reliev'd. 
 
 A slirill defiance of all to arms, 
 Shriek'd by the stable-cock, received 
 
 An angry answer from three farms. 
 And, then, I dream'd that I, her knight. 
 
 A clarion's haughty pathos heard. 
 And rode securely to tlie fight. 
 
 Cased in the scarf slie had coiiferr'd ;
 
 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 And there, the bristling lists behind, 
 
 Saw many, and vauquish'd all I saw 
 Of her immimber'd cousin-kind, 
 
 In Navy, Army, Church, and Law ; 
 Smitten, the warriors somehow turn'd 
 
 To Sarum choristers, whose song, 
 Mix'd with celestial sorrow, yearn'd 
 
 With joy no memory can prolong ; 
 And phantasms as absurd and sweet 
 
 Merged each in each in endless chace, 
 And everywhere I seem'd to meet 
 
 Tl;' hanntino: fairness of her face.
 
 39 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Rose of the World. 
 
 Lo, when the Lord made North and South 
 
 And sun and moon ordained, He, 
 Forthbriuging each by word of mouth 
 
 In order of its dignity. 
 Did man from the crude clay express 
 
 By sequence, and, all else decreed. 
 He form'd the woman; nor might less 
 
 Tlian Sabbath such a work succeed. 
 And still with favour singled out, 
 
 Marr'd less than man by mortal fall, 
 Her disposition is devout. 
 
 Her countenance angelical ; 
 The best things that the best believe 
 
 Are in her face so kindly writ 
 The faitliless, seeing her, conceive 
 
 Not only her.vcn, but hope of it ;
 
 40 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 No idle thought her instinct shrouds, 
 
 But fancy chequers settled sense, 
 Like alteration of the clouds 
 
 On noonday's azure permanence ; 
 Pure dignity, composure, ease 
 
 Declare affections nobly fix'd, 
 And impulse sprung from due degrees 
 
 Of sense and spirit sweetly mix'd. 
 Her modesty, her chief est grace, 
 
 The cestus clasping Yenus' side, 
 How potent to deject the face 
 
 Of him who would affront its pride ! 
 "Wrong dares not in her presence speal: . 
 
 Xor spotted thought its taint disclosj 
 Under the protest of a cheek 
 
 Outbraggiug Nature's boast the rose. 
 In mind and manners how discreet ; 
 
 How artless in her yery art ; 
 How candid in discourse ; how sweet 
 
 The concord of her lips and heart ; 
 How simple and how circumspect ; 
 
 How subtle and how fancy-free ; 
 Though sacred to her love, how deckM 
 
 With imexclusiye courtesy ; 
 How quick in talk to see from far 
 
 The way to vanquish or evade ; 
 How able her persuasions are 
 
 To prove, her reasons to pers'iade ;
 
 PRELUDES. 41 
 
 How (not to call true instiuct's bent 
 
 And woman's very nature, harm), 
 How amiable and innocent 
 
 Her pleasure in her power to charm ; 
 How humbly careful to attract, 
 
 Though crown'd with all the soul dpsire= 
 Connubial aptitude exact, 
 
 Diversity that never tires. 
 
 II, 
 
 The Tribute. 
 
 Boon Nature to the woman bows ; 
 
 She walks in earth's whole glory clad. 
 And, chiefest far herself of shows. 
 
 All others help her, and are glad : 
 Xo splendour 'neath the sky's proud dome 
 
 But serves for her familiar wear ; 
 Tlie far-fetch'd diamond finds its home 
 
 Flashing and smouldering in her hair ; 
 For her the seas their j)earls reveal ; 
 
 Art and strange lands her pomp supply 
 With purple, chrome, and cochineal, 
 
 Ochre, and lapis lazuli; 
 The worm its golden woof presents ; 
 
 Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves. 
 xVll doff for her their ornaments, 
 
 Which suit her better than themselves ;
 
 42 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 And all, by this their power to give, 
 Proving her right to take, proclaim 
 
 Her beauty's clear prerogative 
 To profit so by Eden's blame. 
 
 III. 
 
 Compensation. 
 That nothing here may want its praise, 
 
 Know, she who in her dress reveals 
 A fine and modest taste, disj)lays 
 
 More loveliness than she conceals. 
 
 THE MORIN^ING CALL. 
 1 
 
 By meekness charm'd, or proud to allow 
 
 ' A queenly claim to live admired, 
 Full many a lady has ere now 
 
 ' My apprehensive fancy fired, 
 And woven many a transient chain ; 
 
 ' But never lady like to this, 
 Who holds me as the weather-vane 
 
 ' Is held by yonder clematis. 
 She seems the life of nature's powers ; 
 
 ' Her beauty is the genial tliought 
 Which makes the sunshine bright ; tlie flowers, 
 
 ' But for their hint of her, were nought.'
 
 THE MORNING CALL. 43 
 
 A voice, the sweeter for the grace 
 
 Of suddenness, while thus I dream 'd, 
 ' Good morning- ! ' said or sang. Her face 
 
 The mirror of the morning seem'd. 
 Her sisters in the garden walk'd, 
 
 And would I come ? Across the Hall 
 She led me ; and we laugh'd and talk'd, 
 
 And praised the Flower-show and the Ball 
 And Mildred's pinks had gain'd the Prize ; 
 
 And, stepping like the light-foot fawn, 
 She brought me ' Wiltshire Butterflies,' 
 
 The Prize-book ; then we paced the lawn, 
 Close-cut, and with geranium-plots, 
 
 A rival glow of green and red ; 
 Then counted sixty apricots 
 
 On one small tree ; the gold-fish fed ; 
 And watch'd where, black with scarlet tans, 
 
 Proud Psyche stood and flash'd like Camo, 
 Showing and shutting splendid fans ; 
 
 And in the prize we found its name. 
 
 3 
 
 The sweet hour lapsed, and left my breast 
 
 A load of joy and tender care ; 
 And this delight, which life oppress'd. 
 
 To fix'd aims grew, that ask'd for [nviy'r.
 
 44? THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 I rode home slovrlv ; whip- in-hand 
 
 And soil'd bank-notes all ready, stojd 
 The Farmer who farm'd all my land, 
 Except the little Park and Wood ; 
 And with the aceustom'd compliment 
 Of talk, and beef, and frothing beer, 
 I, my own steward, took my rent, 
 
 Thi-ee hundred pounds for half the year ; 
 Our witnesses the Cook and G-room, 
 
 "We sign'd tlie lease for seven years more, 
 And bade Good-day ; then to my room 
 
 I went, and closed and lock'd the door, 
 And cast myself down on my bed, 
 And there, with many a blissfid tear. 
 f I vow'd to love and pray'd to wed 
 
 The maiden who had grown so dear ; 
 j Thank'd God who had set her in my path ; 
 i And promised, as I hoped to win, 
 j That I would never dim my faith 
 \j I By the least selfishness or sin ; 
 1 Whatever in her sight I'd seem 
 ' I'd truly be ; I'd never blend 
 With my delight in her a dream 
 
 'Twould change her cheek to comprehend ; 
 And, if she wish'd it, I'd prefer 
 i Another's to my own success ; 
 And always seek the best for her 
 With unofficious tenderness.
 
 THE MOENING CALL. 45 
 
 •i 
 
 Rising, I breathed a brighter clime, 
 
 And found myself all self aljove, 
 And, with a charity sublime, 
 
 Contemn'd not those who did not love ; 
 And I could not but feel that then 
 
 I shone with something of her grace, 
 And went forth to my fellow men 
 
 My commendation in my face.
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 ®IjB Violets. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Comparison. 
 
 Where slie succeeds with cloudless brow, 
 
 In common and in holy course, 
 He fails, in spite of prayer and voay 
 
 And agonies of faith and force ; 
 Or, if liis suit with Heaven prevails 
 
 To righteous life, his virtuous deeds 
 Lack beauty, virtue's badge ; she fails 
 
 More graciously than he succeeds. 
 Her spirit, compact of gentleness, 
 
 If Heaven postpones or grants her pray'r, 
 Conceives no pride in its success, 
 
 And in its failure no despair; 
 But his, enamour'd of its hurt. 
 
 Baffled, blasphemes, or, not denied, 
 CroTTS from the dunghill of desert, 
 
 And wags its ugly wings for pride.
 
 PRELUDES. 47 
 
 He's never young nor ripe ; she grows 
 
 More infantine, auroral, mild, 
 And still the more she lives and knows 
 
 The lovelier she's express'd a child. 
 Say that she wants the will of man 
 
 To conquer fame, not check'd by cross, 
 Nor moved when others bless or ban ; 1 
 
 She wants but what to have were loss.^-^ 
 Or say she wants the patient brain 
 
 To track shy truth ; her facile wit [ 
 At that wliich he hunts doT\Ti with pain 
 
 Flies straight, and does exactly hit. 
 Were she but half of what she is, 
 
 He twice himself, mere love alone, I 
 
 Her special crown, as truth is his, 1 
 
 Gives title to the worthier throne ; | 
 
 For love is substance, truth the form ; ' 
 
 1 
 Truth without love were less than nought ; ! 
 
 But blindest love is sweet and warm, 
 
 And full of truth not shaped by thought; 
 And therefore in herself she stands 
 
 Adorn'd with undeficient grace, 
 Her happy virtues taking hands, 
 
 Each smiling in another's face. 
 So, dancing round the Tree of Life, 
 
 They make an Eden in her breast, 
 "While his, disjointed and at strife, 
 
 Proud-thoughted, do not bring him rest.
 
 48 THE ANGEL IN THE KCrSZ. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love in Tears. 
 
 If fate Love's dear ambition mar, 
 
 And load liis breast with hopeless pain, 
 And seem to blot out sun and star. 
 
 Love, won or lost, is countless gain ; 
 His sorrow boasts a secret bliss 
 
 AVhich sorrow of itself beguiles, 
 And Love in tears too noble is 
 
 For pity, save of Love in smiles. 
 But, looking backward through his tears, 
 
 With vision of maturer scope, 
 How often one dead joy appears 
 
 The platform of some better hope I 
 And, let us own, the sharpest smart 
 
 Which human patience may endure 
 Pays light for that which leaves the heart 
 
 More generous, dignified, and pure. 
 
 III. 
 
 Prospective Faith. 
 
 They safely walk in darkest ways 
 "Whose youth is lighted from above. 
 
 Where, through the senses' silvery haze, 
 Dawns the veil'd moon of nuptial love.
 
 THE VIOLETS. 49 
 
 Who is the happy husband ? He 
 Who, scanning his unwedcled life, 
 
 Thanks Heaven, witli a conscience free, y 
 'Twas faithful to his future wife. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Venus Victrix. 
 
 Fatal in force, yet gentle in will, 
 Defeats, from her, are tender pacts, 
 
 For, like the kindly lodestone, still 
 
 She's drawn herself by what she attracts. 
 
 THE YI0LET3. 
 1 
 
 I went not to the Dean's uubid : 
 
 I would not have my mystery, 
 From her so delicately hid. 
 
 The guess of gossips at their tea. 
 A long, long week, and not once there. 
 
 Had made my spirit sick alid faint, 
 And lack-love, foul as loA'e is fair, 
 
 Perverted all things to complaint.
 
 50 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 How vain tlie world liad grown to be I 
 
 How mean all people and their wars, 
 Ho-\r ignorant tlieir sympathy, 
 
 And how impertinent their praise ; 
 What they for virtuoiisness esteem'd, 
 
 How far removed from heavenly right ; 
 What pettiness their trouble seem'd, 
 
 How nndelightf ul their delight ; 
 To my necessity how strange 
 
 The sunshine and the song of birds ; 
 How dull the clouds' continual change, 
 
 How foolishly content the herds ; 
 How unaccountable the law 
 
 Which bade me sit in blindness here, 
 While she, the sun by which I saw, 
 
 Shed splendour in an idle sphere I 
 And then I kiss'd her stolen glove, 
 
 And sigh'd to reckon and define 
 The modes of martyrdom in love, 
 
 And how far each one might be mine. 
 I thought how love, whose vast estate 
 
 Is earth and air and sun and sea, 
 Encounters oft the beggar's fate, 
 
 Despised on score of poverty ; 
 How Heaven, inscrutable in this, 
 
 Lets the gross general make or mar 
 Tlie destiny of love, which is 
 
 So tender and particular ;
 
 THE VIOLETS. 51 
 
 How nature, as iinnatiiral 
 
 And contradicting nature's source, 
 "Wliicli is but love, seems most of all 
 
 Well-pleased to harry true love's course ; 
 How, many times, it comes to pass 
 
 That tritling shades of temperament, 
 Affecting only one, alas, 
 
 Not love, but love's success prevent ; 
 How manners often falsely paint 
 
 The man ; how passionate respect, 
 Hid by itself, may bear the taint 
 
 Of coldness and a dull neglect ; 
 And how a little outward dust 
 
 Can a clear merit quite o'ercloud, 
 And make her fatally unjust, 
 
 And him desire a darker shroud ; ■ 
 How senseless opportunity 
 
 Gives baser men the better chance ; 
 How powers, adverse else, agree 
 
 To cheat her in her Ignorance ; 
 How Heaven its very self conspires 
 
 With man and nature against love, 
 As pleased to couple cross desires. 
 
 And cross where they themselves approve. 
 Wretched were life, if the end were now ! 
 
 But this gives tears to dry despair, 
 Faith shall be blest, we know not how. 
 
 And love f ulfill'd, we know not where.
 
 THE ANGEL IIST THE HOUSE. 
 2 
 
 While thus I grieved, and kiss'd her glove, 
 
 My man brought in her note to say. 
 Papa had bid her send his love, 
 
 And would I dine with them next day ? 
 They had learn'd and practised Purcell's glee, 
 
 To sing it by to-morrow night. 
 The Postscript was : Her sisters and she 
 
 Inclosed some violets, blue and white ; 
 She and her sisters found them where 
 
 I wager' d once no violets grew ; 
 So they had won the gloves. And tliere 
 
 The violets lay, two white, one blue.
 
 CANTO YI. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 1. 
 
 Perfect Love rare. 
 
 Most rare is still most noble found, 
 
 Most noble still most incomplete ; 
 Sad law, wliieli leaves King Love uncrown'd 
 
 In this obscure, terrestrial seat ! 
 With bale more sweet than others' bliss, 
 
 And bliss more wise than others' bale, 
 The secrets of the world are his. 
 
 And freedom without let or pale. 
 O, zealous good, O, virtuous glee, 
 
 Religious, and without alloy, 
 O, privilege high, which none but he 
 
 Who highly merits can enjoy ; 
 O, Love, who art that fabled sun 
 
 Which all the world with bounty loads, 
 Without respect of realms, save one, 
 
 And gilds with double lustre Rhodes :
 
 54 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 A day of whose delicious life, 
 
 Though full of terrors, full of tears, 
 Is better than of other life 
 
 A hundred thousand million years ; 
 Thy heavenly splendour magnifies 
 
 The least commixture of earth's mould. 
 Cheapens thyself in thine ovrn eyes. 
 
 And makes the foolish mocker bold. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love Justified. 
 
 What if my pole-star of respect 
 
 Be dim to others ? Shall their ' Xay,' 
 Presumably their own defect, 
 
 Invalidate my heart's strong • Yea ' ? 
 Ajid can they rightly me cond^^mn, 
 
 If I, with partial love, prefer ? 
 I am not more unjust to tliem, 
 
 But only not unjust to her. 
 Leave us alone ! After awhile, 
 
 This pool of private charity 
 Sliall make its continent an isle. 
 
 And roll, a world-embracing sea ; 
 This foolish zeal of lip for lip. 
 
 This fond, self-sanction"d, wilful zest, 
 
 that elect relationship 
 
 Which forms and sanctions aU the rest
 
 PRELUDES. 55 
 
 Tins little germ of nuptial love, 
 
 Which spring's so simply from the sod, 
 
 The root is, as my song shall prove. 
 Of all our love to man and God. 
 
 III. 
 
 Love Serviceable. 
 
 What measure Fate to him shall mete 
 
 Is not the noble Lover's care ; 
 He's heart-sick with a longing sweet 
 
 To make her happy as she's fair. 
 Oh, misery, should she him refuse, 
 
 And so her dearest good mistake ! 
 His own success he thus pursues 
 
 With frantic zeal for her sole sake. 
 To lose her were his life to blight, 
 
 Being loss to hers ; to make her his. 
 Except as helping her delight, 
 
 He calls but incidental bliss ; 
 And holding life as so much pelf 
 
 To buy her posies, learns this lore : 
 He does not rightly love himself 
 
 Who does not love another more.
 
 56 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 A Riddle Solved. 
 
 Kind souls, you wonder why, love you, 
 When you, you wonder why, lore none. 
 
 We love, Fool, for the good we do, 
 Not tliat which unto us is done ! 
 
 THE DEAN. 
 
 The Ladies rose. I held the door, 
 
 And sigh'd, as her departing grace 
 Assured me that she always wore 
 
 A heart as happy as her face ; 
 And, jealous of the winds that blew, 
 
 I dreaded, o'er the tasteless wine, 
 Wliat fortune momently might do 
 
 To luirt the liope tliat she'd be mine. 
 
 2 
 
 Tinvards my mark the Dean's talk set : 
 He praised my ' Notes on Abury,' 
 
 Road when the Association met 
 At Sarum ; he was pleased to se3
 
 THE DEAN. 57 
 
 I had not stopp'd, as some men had, 
 At Wrangler and Prize Poet ; last, 
 
 He hoped the business was not bad 
 I came about : then the wine pass'd. 
 
 A full glass prefaced my reply : 
 
 I loved his daughter, Honor ; I told 
 My estate and prospects ; might I try 
 
 To win her ? At my words so bold 
 My sick heart sank. Then he : He gave 
 
 His glad consent, if I could get 
 Her love. A dear, good Girl ! she'd have 
 
 Only three thousand pounds as yet ; 
 More bye and bye. Yes, his good will 
 
 Should go with me ; he would not stir ; 
 He and my father in old time still 
 
 Wish'd I should one day marry her ; 
 But God so seldom lets us take 
 
 Our chosen pathway, when it lies 
 In steps that either mar or make 
 
 Or alter others' destinies. 
 That, though his blessing and his pray'r 
 
 Had help'd, should help, my suit, yet he 
 Left all to me, his passive share 
 
 Consent and opportunity.
 
 58 THE ANGEL IN THE HOVSE. 
 
 My cliance, he hoped, was good : I'd won 
 
 Some name already ; friends and place 
 Appear'd within my reach, but none 
 
 Her mind and manners would not grace. 
 Girls lore to see the men in whom 
 
 They invest their vanities admired ; 
 Besides, where goodness is, there room 
 
 For good to work will be desired. 
 'Twas so with one now pass'd away ; 
 
 And what she was at twenty-two, 
 Honor was now ; and he might say 
 
 Mine was a choice I could not rue. 
 
 4 
 
 He ceased, and gave his hand. He had won 
 
 (And all my heart was in my word . 
 From me the affection of a son, 
 
 Whichever fortune Heaven eonf err" d ! 
 Well, well, would I take more wine 1 Then go 
 
 To her ; she makes tea on the lawn 
 These fine warm afternoons. And so 
 
 We went whither my soul was drawn ; 
 And her light-hearted ignorance 
 
 Of interest in our discourse 
 Fill'd me with love, and seem'd to enhance 
 
 Her beauty with pathetic force,
 
 THE DEAN. 59 
 
 As, through the flowery mazes sweet, 
 
 Fronting the wind that flutter' cl blythe, 
 And loved her shape, and kiss'd her feet, 
 
 Shown to their insteps proud and lithe. 
 She approach'd, all mildness and young trust, 
 
 And ever her chaste and noble air 
 Gave to love's feast its choicest gust, 
 
 A vague, faint augury of despair.
 
 60 
 
 CANTO YII 
 
 PRELUDES.. 
 
 I. 
 
 Lovers Im 1110 rt edit y. 
 
 How A-ilely 'twere to misdeservc 
 
 The poet's gift of perfect speech, 
 lu song to try, with trembling nerve. 
 
 The limit of its utmost reach, 
 Only to sound the wretched praise 
 
 Of wliat to-morrow shall not be ; 
 So mocking with immortal bays 
 
 The cross-bones of mortality ! 
 I do not thus. My faith is fast 
 
 That all the loveliness I sing 
 Is made to bear the mortal blast. 
 
 And blossom in a better Sirring, 
 Doubts of eternity ne'er cross 
 
 The Lover's mind, divinely clear ; 
 For ever is the gain or loss 
 
 Which maddens him with hope or fear
 
 PRELUDES. CI 
 
 So trifles serve for his relief, 
 
 And trifles make him sick and pale ; 
 And yet his pleasure and his grief 
 
 Are both on a majestic scale. 
 The chance, indefinitely small, 
 
 Of issue infinitely great, 
 Eclipses finite interests all, 
 
 And has the dignity of fate. 
 
 II. 
 Heaven and Earth. 
 
 How long shall men deny the flower 
 
 Because its roots are in the earth, 
 And crave with tears from God the dower 
 
 They have, and have despised as dearth, 
 And scorn as low their human lot, 
 
 With frantic pride, too blind to see 
 That standing on the head makes not 
 
 Either for ease or dignity ! 
 But fools shall feel like fools to find 
 
 (Too late inf orm'd) that angels' mirth 
 Is one in cause, and mode, and kind 
 
 With that which they profaned on earth.
 
 62 
 
 ^TNA AND THE MOON. 
 1 
 To soothe my heart I, feigning, seized 
 
 A pen, and, showering tears, declared 
 My unfeign'd passion ; sadly pleased 
 
 Only to dream that so I dared. 
 Thus was the fervid truth coufess'd, 
 
 But wild with paradox ran the plea 
 As wilfully in hope depress'd, 
 
 Yet bold beyond hope's warranty : 
 
 2 
 
 ' O. more than dear, be more than just, 
 ' And do not deafly shut the door ! 
 
 * I claim no right to speak ; I trust 
 
 ' Mercy, not right ; yet who has more ? 
 ' For, if more love makes not more fit, 
 ' Of claimants here none's more nor less, 
 
 * Since your great worth does not permit 
 
 ' Degrees in our unworthiness. 
 
 * Yet, if there's aught that can be done 
 
 ' With arduous labour of long years, 
 
 * By which you'll say that you'll be won, 
 
 ' tell me, and I'll dry my tears. 
 
 * Ah, no ; if loving cannot move, 
 
 ' How foolishly must labour fail ! 
 
 * The use of deeds is to show love ; 
 
 If si^-ns suffice let these avail :
 
 ^TNA AND THE MOON. 63 
 
 ' Your name pronounced brings to my lieart 
 
 ' A feeling like the violet's breath, 
 ' Which does so much of heaven impart 
 
 ' It makes me amorous of death ; 
 ' The winds that in the garden toss 
 
 ' The Guelder-roses give me pain, 
 ' Alarm me with the dread of loss, 
 
 ' Exhaust me with the dream of gain ; 
 ' I'm troubled by the clouds that move ; 
 
 ' Tired by the breath which I respire ; 
 ' And ever, like a torch, my love, 
 
 * Thus agitated, flames the higher ; 
 ' All's hard that has not you for goal ; \j 
 
 ' I scarce can move my hand to write, 
 ' For love engages all my soul, 
 
 ' And leaves the body void of might ; 
 ' The wings of will spread idly, as do 
 
 ' The bird's that in a vacuum lies ; 
 ' My breast, asleep with dreams of 3-ou, 
 
 ' Forgets to breathe, and bursts in sighs ; 
 ' I see no rest this side the grave, f 
 
 ' Xo rest nor hope, from you apart ; 
 ' Your life is in the rose you gave, 
 
 ' Its perfume suffocates my heart ; 
 ' There's no refreshment in the breeze ; 
 
 ' The heaven o'erwhelms me with its blue ; 
 ' I faint beside the dancing seas ; ; 
 
 ' Winds, skies, and waves are onlv you; '
 
 64 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 * The tlioiiglit or act wliicli not intends 
 
 ' You service seems a sin and shame ; 
 ' In that one only object ends 
 
 ' Conscience, religion, honour, fame. 
 ^ Ah, could I put off love ! Could vre 
 
 ' Never have met ! What calm, what ease ! 
 ' Nay, but, alas, this remedy 
 
 ' Were ten times worse than the disease ! 
 ' For when, indifferent, I pursue 
 
 ' The world's best pleasures for relief, 
 ' My heart, still sickening back to you, 
 
 • Finds none like memory of its grief ; 
 
 * And, though 'twere very hell to hear 
 
 ' You felt such misery as I, 
 
 * All good, save you, were far less dear 
 
 • Than is that ill with which I die ! 
 ' Where'er I go, wandering forlorn, 
 
 ' You are the world's love, life, and glee : 
 ' Oh, wi-etchedness not to be bome 
 
 ' If she that's Love should not love me ! ' 
 
 3 
 
 I could not write another word. 
 Through pity for my own distress 
 
 And forth I went, untimely stirr'd 
 To make mv miserv more or less.
 
 ^TNA AXD THE MOO:^T. 65 
 
 I weut, beneath the heated uoou, 
 
 To where, in her simplicity, 
 She sate at work ; and, as the Moon 
 
 On ^tna smiles, she smiled on me. 
 But. now and then, in cheek and eyes^ 
 
 I saw, or fancied, such a glow \ 
 
 As when, in summer-evening skies, , 
 
 Some sav. ' It lightens,' some say, ' Xo.' 
 ' Honoria,' I began No more. 
 
 The Dean, by ill or happy hap, 
 Came home ; and Wolf burst in before, 
 
 And put his nose upon her lap. 
 
 70
 
 CAXTO YIII. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 Life of Life. 
 
 What's tiiat, wliich, ere I spake, was gone ? 
 
 So joyful and intense a spark 
 That, wliilst o'erliead tlie wonder slioiic. 
 
 The day, before but dull, grew dark. 
 I do not know ; but this I know, 
 
 That, had the splendour lived a year, 
 The truth that I some liearenly show 
 
 Did see, eoidd not be now more clear. 
 This know I too : miglit mortal breath 
 
 Express the passion then inspired, 
 Evil would die a natural death, 
 
 And nothing transient be desired ; 
 And error from the soul would pass, 
 
 And leave the senses pure and strong 
 As sunbeams. But the best, alas, 
 
 H«s neither memory nor tongue I
 
 PEELU_ ES. C7 
 
 II. 
 
 The Revelation. 
 
 An idle poet, here and tliere, 
 
 Looks round him ; but, for all the resl^ 
 The world, uufathomably fair, 
 
 Is duller than a witling's jest. 
 Love wakes men, once a lifetime each ; 
 
 They lift their heavy lids, and look ; 
 And, lo, what one sweet page can teach. 
 
 They read with joy, then shut the book. 
 And some give thanks, and some bLi sp!:e:ii3. 
 
 And most forget ; but, either way, 
 That and the Child's unheeded dream 
 
 Is all the light of all their day. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Spirit's Epochs. 
 Not in the crises of events, 
 
 Of compass'd hopes, or fears fulfill'd, 
 Or acts of gravest consequence, 
 
 Are life's delight and depth reveal'd. 
 The day of days was not the day ; 
 
 That went before, or was postponed ; 
 The night Death took our lamp away 
 
 '^as not the night on which we gro;.ird.
 
 70 THE ANGEL IN THE HOL^SE. 
 
 How cognate Tritli the flatter'd air, 
 
 How form'd for earth's familiar zone. 
 She moved ; how feeling and how fair 
 
 For others' pleasure and her own 1 
 And, ah, the heaven of her face I 
 
 How, when she langh'd, I seem'd to see 
 The gladness of the primal grace, 
 
 And how, when grave, its dignity ! 
 Of all she was, the least not less 
 
 Delighted the devoted eye ; 
 Xo fold or fashion of her dress 
 
 Her fairness did not sanctify. 
 I could not else than grieve. Wlisd car.se ? 
 
 Was I not blest ? Was she not there ? 
 Likely my own ? Ah, that it was : 
 
 How like seem'd ' likely ' to despair ! 
 
 And yet to see her so benign, 
 
 So honourable and womanly, 
 In every maiden kindness mine, 
 
 And full of gayest courtesy. 
 Was pleasure so without alloy, 
 
 Such unreproved, sufficient bliss, 
 I almost wish'd, the while, that joy 
 
 Might never further go than this.
 
 SARTJM PLAIN. 71 
 
 So mucli it was as now to wallc. 
 
 And lniml)ly by lier gentle side 
 Observe her smile and hear lier talk, 
 
 Could it be more to cnll lier Bride ? 
 I feign'd lier won : the mind finite, 
 
 Puzzled and fagg'd by stress and strain 
 To comprehend the whole delight, 
 
 Made bliss more hard to bear than pain. 
 All good, save heart to hold, so summ'd 
 
 And grasp'd, the thought smote, like a knife, 
 How lapsVl mortality had numb'd 
 
 The feelings to the feast of life ; 
 How passing good breathes sweetest breath ; 
 
 And love itseK at highest reveals 
 More black than bright, commending death 
 
 By teaching how much life conceals. 
 
 4 
 
 But happier passions these subdued, 
 
 When from the close and sultry lane, 
 "With eyes made bright by what they view'd, 
 
 We emerged upon the mounded Plain. 
 As to the breeze a flag unfurls, 
 
 My spirit expanded, sweetly embraced 
 By those same gusts that shook her curls 
 
 And vex'd the ribbon at her waist.
 
 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 To tlie future east I future eares ; 
 
 Breatlied with a heart unfreightecl, free, 
 And hiugh'd at the x^resumptuous airs 
 
 That with her muslins folded me ; 
 Till, one vague rack along my sky. 
 
 The thought that she might ne'er be mine 
 Lay half forgotten by the eye 
 
 So feasted with the sun's warm shine. 
 
 By the great stones we chose our ground 
 
 For shade ; and there, in converse sweet, 
 Took luncheon. On a little mound 
 
 Sat the three ladies : at their feet 
 I sat ; and smelt the heathy smell, 
 
 Pluck'd 1 arebells, turu'd the telescope 
 To the country round. My life went well. 
 
 For once, without the wheels of hope ; 
 And I despised the Druid rocks 
 
 That seowl'd their chill gloom from above, 
 Like churls whose stolid ^^-isdom mocks 
 
 The lightness of immortal love. 
 And, as we talk'd, my sj)irit quaff'd 
 
 The sparkling winds ; the candid skies 
 At our untrutlif ul strangeness laugh'd ; 
 
 I kiss'd with mine her smiling eyes ;
 
 SAEUM PLAIN. "^'^ 
 
 And sweet familiarness and awe 
 
 Prevail'd that hour on either part, 
 And in the eternal light I saw 
 
 That she was mine ; though yet my heart 
 Could not conceive, nor would confess 
 
 Such contentation ; and there grew 
 More form and more fair stateliness 
 
 Thau heretofore between us two.
 
 CANTO IX. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Wife's Tragedy. 
 
 3Ian must be pleased ; but liim to please 
 
 Is woman's pleasure ; down the gulf 
 Of Ills condoled necessities 
 
 She casts ber best, slie flings herself. 
 How often flings for nought, and yokes 
 
 Her heart to an icicle or whim, 
 Whose each impatient word provokes 
 
 Another, not from her, but him ; 
 AYhile she, too gentle even to force 
 
 His penitence by kind replies, 
 Waits by, expecting his remorse, 
 
 With pardon in her pitying eyes ; 
 And if he once, by shame oppress'd, 
 
 A comfortable word confers, 
 She leans and weeps against his breast, 
 
 And seems to think the sin was hers :
 
 PRELUDES. 75 
 
 And whilst liis love has auy life, 
 
 Or any eye to see her cha-rms, 
 At any time, she's still his wife, 
 
 Dearly devoted to his arms ; 
 She loves with love that cannot ti^-A • 
 
 And when, ah woe, she loves alone, 
 Through passionate duty love springs higher. 
 
 As grass grows taller round a stone. 
 
 Common Graces. 
 Is nature in thee too spiritless, 
 
 Ignoble, impotent, and dead, 
 To prize her love and loveliness 
 
 The more for being thy daily bread ? 
 And art thou one of that vile crew 
 
 Which see no splendour in the sun, 
 Praising alone the good that's new, 
 
 Or over, or not yet begun ? 
 And lias it dawn'd on thy dull wits 
 
 That love warms many as soft a nest. 
 That, though swathed round with benefits, 
 
 Thou art not singularly blest ? 
 And fail thy thanks for gifts divine, 
 
 The common food of many a heart. 
 Because they are not only thine ? 
 
 Beware lest in the end tliou art
 
 76 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Cast for thy pride forth from tlie fold. 
 Too good to feel the common grace 
 
 Of blissful myriads -who behold 
 For evermore the Father's face. 
 
 The Zest of Life. 
 
 Give thanks. It is not time misspent ; 
 
 Worst fare this betters, and the best. 
 Wanting this natural condiment, 
 
 Breeds crudeness, and will not digest. 
 The grateful love the Giver's law ; 
 
 But those who eat, and look no higher. 
 From sin or doubtful sanction draw 
 
 The biting sauce their feasts require. 
 Give thanks for nought, if you've no more. 
 
 And, having all things, do not doubt 
 That nought, with tlianks, is blest before 
 
 Whatever the world can give, without. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Fool and Wise. 
 
 Endow the fool with sun and moon, 
 
 Being his, he holds them mean and low. 
 
 But to the wise a little boon 
 Is great, because the giver's so.
 
 77 
 
 SAHARA. 
 
 1 
 
 I stood by Honor aud the Deau, 
 
 Tliey seated in the Loudon train. 
 A month from hor ! yet this had been. 
 
 Ere now, Avitliont such bitter pain. 
 But neighbourhood makes parting light. 
 
 And distance remedy has none ; 
 Alone, she near, I felt as might 
 
 A blind man sitting in the sun ; 
 She near, all for the time was well ; 
 
 Hope's self, when we were far apart. 
 With lonely feeling, like the smell 
 
 Of heath on mountains, filFd my heart, 
 To see lier seem'd delight's full scope. 
 
 And her kind smile, so clear of care. 
 Ey'u then, though darkening all my ho;) 
 
 Gilded the cloud of my despair. 
 
 She had forgot to bring a book. 
 
 I lent one ; blamed the print for old ; 
 Aud did not tell her that she took 
 
 A Petrarch worth its weight in gold.
 
 THE a:n"gel in the house. 
 
 I hoped she'd lose it ; for my love 
 Was grown so dainty, higli^ and nice, 
 
 It prized no luxury aboye 
 
 The sense of fruitless sacrifice. 
 
 3 
 
 The bell rang, and, with shrieks like death, 
 
 Link catching link, the long array, 
 With ponderous pulse and fiery breatli. 
 
 Proud of its burthen, swept away ; 
 And through the lingering crowd I broke, 
 
 Sought the hill-side, and tlience, heart-sick, 
 Beheld, far off, the little smoke 
 
 Along the landscape kindling quick. 
 
 4 
 What should I do, where should I go, 
 
 Now she was gone, my loye ! for mine 
 She was, whateyer here below 
 
 Cross'd or usurp'd my right divine. 
 Life, without her, was yain and gross. 
 
 The glory from the world was gone, 
 And on the gardens of the Close 
 
 As on Sahara shone the sun. 
 Oppress'd with her departed grace. 
 
 My thoughts on ill surmises fed; 
 The harmful influence of the place 
 
 She went to fill'd ray soul with dread.
 
 SAHARA. 79 
 
 She, mixing with the people tliore, 
 
 Might come back alter'd, having cauglit 
 The foolish, fashionable air 
 
 Of knowing all, and feeling nought. 
 Or, giddy with her beauty's praise, 
 
 She'd scorn our simple country life, 
 Its wholesome nights and tranquil days. 
 
 And would not deign to be my Wife. 
 ' My Wife,' ' my Wife,' ah, tenderest vvord ! 
 
 How oft, as fearful she might hear, 
 Whispering that name of ' Wife,' I heard 
 
 The chiming of the inmost sphere. 
 
 I pass'd the home of my regret. 
 
 The clock was striking in the hall, 
 And one sad window open yet. 
 
 Although the dews began to fall. 
 Ah^ distance show'd her beauty's scope ! 
 
 How light of heart and innocent 
 That loveliness which sicken'd hope 
 
 And wore the world for ornament ! 
 How perfectly her life was framed ; 
 
 And, thought of in that passionate mood, 
 How her affecting graces shamed 
 
 The vulgar life that was but good !
 
 so THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 I AYOuder'd, would lier bird be fed. 
 
 Her rose -plots water d, she uot by ; 
 Loading my breast with angry dread 
 
 Of liglit, unlikely injury. 
 So, fiU'd with love and fond remorse. 
 
 I paced tlie Close, its every part 
 Endow'd with reliquary force 
 
 To Leal and raise from death my liearr. 
 How tranquil and unsecular 
 
 The i)reciuet ! Once, through yonder gate, 
 I saw her go, and knew from far 
 
 Her love-lit form and gentle state. 
 Her dress had brush'd this wicket ; here 
 
 She turn'd her face, and laugh'd, with light 
 Like moonbeams on a wavering mere. 
 
 "Weary beforehand of tlie nig' it, 
 I went : the blackbird, in the wood 
 
 Talk'd by himself, and eastvrard grew 
 In heaven the symbol of my mood, 
 
 ^^Tiere one bright star engross'd the blue.
 
 81 
 CANTO X. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Joyful Wisdoui. 
 
 "Would Wisdom for lierself be woo'd, 
 
 And wake tlie foolisii from Ids dream, 
 She must be glad as well as good, 
 
 And must not only be, but seem. 
 Beauty and joy are hers bj right ; 
 
 And, knowing this, I wonder less 
 That she's so scorn'd, when falsely dight 
 
 In misery and ugliness. 
 What's that which Heayen to man endears, 
 
 And that which eyes no sooner see 
 Than the heart says, with floods of tears, 
 
 ' Ah, that's the thing which I would be ! ' 
 Xot childliood, full of froy.'u and fret ; 
 
 Xot youth, impatient to disown 
 Those visions high, which to forget 
 
 Were worse than never to have known :
 
 82 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Not worldliugs, in whose fair outside 
 
 Xor courtesy nor justice fails, 
 Thanks to cross-j)ulling vices tied, 
 
 Like Samson's foxes, by the tails ; 
 Not poets ; real things are dreams, 
 
 When dreams are as realities, 
 And boasters of celestial gleams 
 
 Go stumbling aye for "want of eyes ; 
 Not patriots or people's men, 
 
 In whom two worse-match'd evils meet 
 Than ever sought AduUam's den, 
 
 Base conscience and a high conceit ; 
 Not new-made saints, their feelings iced. 
 
 Their joy in man and nature gone, 
 Who sing • O easy yoke of Christ ! ' 
 
 But find 'tis hard to get it on ; 
 Not great men, even when they're good ; 
 
 The good man whom the time makes great, 
 By some disgrace of chance or blood, 
 
 G od fails not to humiliate ; 
 Not these : but souls, found here and there, 
 
 Oases in our waste of sin, 
 Where everything is well and fair, 
 
 And Heav'n remits its discipline ; 
 Whose sweet subdual of the world 
 
 The -worldling scarce can recognise, 
 And ridicule, against it hurl'd, 
 
 Drops with a broken sting and dies ;
 
 PEZLUDES. 
 
 Wlio nobly, if tliej caunot know 
 
 Wlietlier a 'scutcheon's dubious field 
 Carries a falcon or a crow, 
 
 Fancy a falcon on the shield ; 
 Yet, ever careful not to bm-t 
 
 God's honour, who creates success, 
 Their praise of even the best desert 
 
 Is but to have presumed no less ; 
 Who, should their own life plaudits bring, 
 
 Are simply vex'd at heart that such 
 An easy, yea, delightful thing 
 
 Should move the minds of men so much. 
 They live by law, not like the fool, 
 
 But like the bard, who freely sings 
 In strictest bonds of rhyme and rule, 
 
 And finds in them, not bonds, but wings. 
 Postponing still their private ease 
 
 To courtly custom, ajjpetite. 
 Subjected to observances, 
 
 To banquet goes with full delight ; 
 l^ay, continence and gratitude 
 
 So cleanse their lives from earth's alloy. 
 They taste, in ISTature's common food, 
 
 Nothing but spiritual joy. 
 Tliey shine like Moses in the face. 
 
 And teach our liearts, without the rod, 
 Tliat God's grace is the only grace, 
 
 And all ^vAce is the g-race of God.
 
 84 THE AITGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 n. 
 
 The Devices. 
 Love, kiss'd by "Wisdom, wakes twice Love, 
 
 And "Wisdom is, thro* loving, wise. 
 Let Dove and Snake, and Snake and Dove, 
 
 This "Wisdom's be. that Love's device. 
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 
 
 1 
 I woke at three ; for I was bid 
 
 To breakfast with the Dean at nine, 
 And thence to Church. My curtain slid. 
 I found the dawning Sunday fine, 
 f And could not rest, so rose. The air 
 
 "Was dark and sharp ; the roosted birds 
 Cheep'd, ' Here am I, Sweet ; are you there ? ' 
 \ On Avon's misty flats the herds 
 
 \ Expected, comfortless, the day, 
 
 "Which slowly fired the clouds above ; 
 The cock scream'd, somewhere far away ; 
 
 In sleep the matrimonial dove 
 Was crooning ; no wind waked the wood, 
 Nor moved the midnight river-damps, 
 Nor thrill'd the poplar ; quiet stood 
 The chestnut with its thousand lamps ;
 
 GOING TO CHURCH. 
 
 Tlie moon shone yet, but weak and drear. 
 And seem'd to watch, with bated breath. 
 
 The landscape, all made sharp and clear 
 By stillness, as a face by death. 
 
 My pray'rs for her being done, I took 
 Occasion by the quiet hour 
 
 To find and know, by Rule and Book, 
 The rights of love's beloved power. 
 
 Fronting the question without ruth. 
 
 Nor ignorant that, evermore. 
 If men will stoop to kiss the Truth, 
 
 She lifts them higher than before, 
 I, from above, such light required 
 
 As now should once for all destroy 
 The folly which at times desired 
 
 A sanction for so great a joy. 
 
 Thenceforth, and through that pray'r. x 
 A path with no suspicious dim. 
 
 I loved her in the name of God, 
 And for the ray she was of Him ;
 
 86 THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 I ought to admire mueli more, not less 
 
 Her beauty was a godly grace ; 
 Tlie mystery of loveliuess, 
 
 Wliieb made an altar of her face, 
 Was not of the flesh, though that was fair, 
 
 But a most pure and living light 
 Without a name, by which the rare 
 
 And virtuous spirit flamed to sight. 
 If oft, in love, effect lack'd cause 
 
 And cause effect, 'twere vain to soar 
 Reasons to seek for that which was 
 
 Reason itseK, or something more. 
 My joy was no idolatry 
 
 Upon tlie ends of the vile earth Ijent, 
 For when I loved lier most then I 
 
 Most yearu'd for more divine content. 
 That other doubt, which, like a ghost, 
 
 In the brain's darkness haunted me. 
 Was thus resolved : Him loved I most, 
 
 But her I loved most sensibly. 
 Lastly, my giddiest hope allow'd 
 
 No selfish thought, or earthly smirch ; 
 And forth I went, in peace, and proud 
 
 To take my passion into Church ; 
 Grateful and glad to think that all 
 
 Such doubts would seem entirely vain 
 To her whose nature's lighter fall 
 
 Made no divorce of heart from brain.
 
 GOING TO CHUECII. 87 
 
 5 
 
 I found tliem, with exactest grace 
 
 And fresli as Sirring, for Spring attii-t d : 
 And by the radiance in her face 
 
 I saw slie felt she was admired ; 
 And, through the common hick of love, 
 
 A moment's fortunate delay, 
 To fit the little lilac glove, 
 
 Gave me her arm ; and I and they 
 (Tliey true to this and every hour, 
 
 As if attended on by Time), 
 Enter'd the Church while yet the toAver 
 
 "Was noisy with the finish'd chime. 
 
 Her soft voice, singularly heard 
 
 Beside me, in her chant, withstood 
 The roar of voices, like a bird 
 
 Sole warbling in a windy wood ; 
 And, when we knelt, she seem'd to be 
 
 An angel teaching me to pray ; 
 And all through the high Liturgy 
 
 My spirit rejoiced without allay, 
 Being, for once, borne clearly above 
 
 All banks and bars of ignorance. 
 By this bright spring-tide of jnire love, 
 
 And floated in a free exj)anse,
 
 8S THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 Wlieuce it could see from side to side, 
 The obscurity from every part 
 
 AYiuuow'd away aud purified 
 By tlie vibrations of my heart.
 
 89 
 
 CANTO XI. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Daughter of Eve. 
 
 The woman's gentle mood o'erstept 
 
 Witliers my love, that lightly scans 
 The rest, and does in her accept 
 
 All her o^Yn faults, but none of man's. 
 As man I cannot judge her ill, 
 
 Or honour her fair station less, 
 Who, with a woman's errors, still 
 
 Preserves a woman's gentleness ; 
 For thus I think, if one I see 
 
 Who disappoints my high desire, 
 ' How admirable would she be, 
 
 ' Could she but know how I admire ! ' 
 Or fail she, though from blemish clear, 
 
 To charm, I call it my defect ; 
 And sc my thought, with reverent fear 
 
 To err by doltish disrespect.
 
 90 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Imputes love's great regard, and says, 
 
 ' Tliougii imappareut 'tis to me, 
 ' Be sure this Queen some otlier sTrays 
 
 ' Witli well-perceiv'd supremaej.' 
 Behold the worst ! Light from above 
 
 On the blank ruin writes ' Forbear ! 
 ' Her first crime was unguarded love, 
 
 ' And all the rest, perhaps, despair.' 
 Diserown'd, dejected, but not lost, 
 
 O, sad one, with no more a name 
 Or place in all the honour'd host 
 
 Of maiden and of matron fame, 
 Grieve on : but, if thou gfievest right, 
 
 'Tis not that these abhor thv state, 
 Nor would'st thou lower the least the height 
 
 Which makes thy casting down so great. 
 Good is thy lot in its degree ; 
 
 For hearts that verily repent 
 Are burden'd with impunity 
 
 And comforted by chastisement. 
 Sweet patience sanctify thy woes I 
 
 And doubt not but our God is just, 
 Albeit unscatlied thy traitor goes, 
 
 And ihou art stricken to the dust. 
 TLat penalty's the best to bear 
 
 Which follows soonest on the sin ; 
 And guilt's a game where losers fare 
 
 Better than those who seem to win.
 
 PEELUDES. 91 
 
 II. 
 
 Aurea Dicta. 
 
 'Tis trutli (although this truth's a star 
 
 Too deep-euskied for all to see), 
 As poets of grammar, lovers are 
 
 The fountains of morality. 
 
 Child, would you shun the vulgar doom, 
 In love disgust, in death despair ? 
 
 Know, death must come and love must coino. 
 And so for each your soul prepare. 
 
 Wlio pleasure follows pleasure slays ; 
 
 God's wrath upon himself lie wreaks ; 
 But all delights rejoice his days 
 
 YvTio takes with thanks, and never seeks. 
 
 The wrong is made and measured by \ 
 
 The right's inverted dignity. \ 
 
 Change love to shame, as love is high 1 
 
 So low in hell your bed shall be. I 
 
 How easy to keep free from sin ! 
 
 How hard that freedom to recall ! 
 For dreadful truth it is that men 
 
 Forget the heavens from wliich they fall.
 
 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Lest sacred love your soiil ensnare, 
 
 Witii pious fancy still infer 
 • How loving and hovr lovely fair 
 
 ' Must He be who has f asliion'd her I ' 
 
 Become whatever good you see, 
 
 Xor sigli if, forthwith, fades from view 
 The grace of which you may not be 
 
 The subject and spectator too. 
 
 Love's perfect blossom only blows 
 Where noble manners veil defect. 
 
 Angels may be familiar ; those 
 AVho eiT each other must respect. 
 
 Love blabb'd of is a great decline ; 
 
 A careless word unsanctions sense ; 
 But he who easts Heaven's truth to swine 
 
 Consummates all incontinence. 
 
 Not to unveil before the gaze 
 
 Of an imperfect sympathy 
 In aught vre are, is the sweet praise 
 
 And the main sum of modesty.
 
 93 
 
 THE DANCE. 
 
 1 
 
 * M.J memory of Heaven awakes ! 
 
 ' She's not of the earth, although her lig 
 ' As lantern'd by her body, makes 
 
 ' A piece of it past bearing bright. 
 ' So innocently j^roud and fair 
 
 ' She is, that Wisdom sings for glee 
 ' And Folly dies, breathing one air 
 
 ' With such a bright-cheek'd chastity ; 
 ' And though her charms are a strong law 
 
 ' Compelling all men to admire, 
 ' They go so clad with lovely awe 
 
 ' None but the noble dares desire. 
 ' He who would seek to make her his 
 
 ' WiU comprehend that souls of grace 
 ' Own sweet repulsion, and that 'tis 
 
 ' The quality of their embrace 
 
 • To be like the majestic reach 
 
 * Of coupled suns, that, from afar, 
 ' Mingle their mutual spheres, while each 
 
 ' Circles tlie twin obsequious star ; 
 ' And, in the warmth of hand to hand, 
 
 ' Of heart to heart, he'll vow to note 
 ' And reverently understand 
 
 ' How the two spirits shine remote ;
 
 94 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' Aud ue'er to numb fine honour's nerve, 
 
 ' Xor let sweet awe in passion melt, 
 ' Nor fail by courtesies to observe 
 
 ' The space wliich makes attraction felt ; 
 ' Nor cease to guard like life the sense 
 
 ' Which tells him that the embrace of love 
 ' Is o'er a gulf of difference 
 
 'Love cannot sound, nor death remove.* 
 
 This learn'd I, watching where she danced. 
 
 Xative to melody and light, 
 And now and then toward me glanced, 
 
 Pleased, as I hoped, to please my sight. 
 
 3 
 Ah, love to speak was impotent. 
 
 Till music did a tongue confer. 
 An d I ne'er knew what music meant. 
 
 Until I danced to it with her. 
 Too proud of the sustaining power 
 
 Of my, till then, unblemish'd joy, 
 My j)assion, for reproof, that hour 
 
 Tasted mortality's alloy, 
 And bore me down an eddying gulf ; 
 
 I wish'd the world might run to w.eck, 
 So I but once might fling myself 
 
 Obliviously about her neck.
 
 THE DANCK. 9-: 
 
 I press'cl her liaiid, "by will or chance 
 
 I know not, but I saw the rays 
 "VYitJidrawn, which did till then enhance 
 
 Her fairness with its thanks for praise. 
 I knew my spirit's vague offence 
 
 Was patent to the dreaming eye 
 And heavenly tact of innocence, 
 
 And did for fear my fear def}^. 
 And ask'd her for the next dance. ' Yes.' 
 
 ' Xo,' had not f all'n with half the force. 
 She was fulfiird with gentleness, 
 
 And I with measureless remorse ; 
 And, ere I slept, on bended knee 
 
 I own'd myself, with many a tear, 
 Unseasonable, disorderly. 
 
 And a deranger of love's sphere ; 
 Gave thanks that, when we stumble and fall. 
 
 We hurt ourselves, and not the truth ; 
 And, rising, found its brightness all 
 
 The brighter through the tears of rutli. 
 
 4 
 
 Nor was my hope that night made less. 
 Though order'd, humbled, and reproved; 
 
 Her farewell did her heart express 
 As much, but not with ana'er. moved.
 
 9B THE AXGZL IN TTJy: HOUSE. 
 
 ^ly trouble had mv soul betray'd ; 
 
 And, in the night of my despair, 
 Zily love, a flower of noon afraid, 
 
 Divulged its fulness unaware. 
 I saw she saw ; and, O sweet Heaven. 
 
 Could my glad mind have credited 
 That influence had to me been given 
 
 To affect her so, I should have said 
 That, though she from herself conceal'd 
 
 Love's felt delight and fancied harm. 
 They made her face the jonsting field 
 
 Of joy and beautiful alarm.
 
 97 
 
 CANTO XII. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Chace. 
 
 She wearies with au ill unknown ; 
 
 In sleep she sobs and seems to floiit. 
 A water-lily, all alone 
 
 Within a lonely castle-moat ; 
 And as the full-moon, spectral, lies 
 
 Within the crescent's gleaming armr^. 
 The present shows her heedless eyes 
 
 A future dim with vague alarms. 
 She sees, and yet she scarcely sees, 
 
 For, life-in-life not yet begun, 
 Too many are its mysteries 
 
 For thought to fix on any one. 
 She's told that maidens are by youths 
 
 Extremely honour'd and desired ; 
 And sighs, ' If those sweot tales be truths, 
 
 ' What bliss to be so much admired ! ' 
 D— 70
 
 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 The suitors come ; she sees them grieve ; 
 
 Her coldness fills them with despair ; 
 She'd pity if she could believe ; 
 
 She's sorry that she cannot care. 
 But who now meets her on I'ir way ? 
 
 Comes he as enemy or fri "I, 
 Or both? Her bosom seems i^ say. 
 
 He cannot pass, and there an end. 
 W.om does l^e ' ^'e? Does he couf -r 
 
 His heart "th that answers his ? 
 
 Or is he come t. ^ship her ? 
 
 She fears, she ho_ slie thinks he is ' 
 Advancing stepless, q.ii^ and still, 
 
 As in the grass a serpent glides, 
 He fascinates her fluttering will, 
 
 Then terrifi.es w"*'- dreadful strides. 
 At first, there's iic • to resist ; 
 
 He fights with all tlie forms of peace ; 
 He comes about her like a mist, 
 
 With subtle, swift, unseen increase ; 
 And then, tmlook'c' lor, strikes amain 
 
 Some stroke th; frightens her to de \t^ 
 And grows all ha.mlessness again. 
 
 Ere she can cry," or get her breath. 
 At times she stops, and stands at bay ; 
 
 But he. in all more strong than she, 
 Subdues her with his pale dismay. 
 
 Or more adiuired audacity.
 
 PRELUDES. 99 
 
 She plaus some final, fatal blow, 
 ■ But when she means with frowns to kill, 
 He looks as if he loved her so, 
 
 She smiles to him against her will. 
 How sweetly he implies her praise ! 
 
 His tende ' talk, his gentle tone, 
 The man!- orship in his gaze, 
 
 They nearly make her heart his own. 
 "With what an air he speaks her name;. 
 
 His manner always reeoi ',et;- 
 Hcr sex, and still the woman's claim 
 
 Is taught its scope by his respects. 
 Her charms, perceived to prosper first 
 
 In his beloved advertencies, 
 When in her glass they are rehearsed, 
 
 Prove his most powerful allies. , 
 
 Ah, whither shall { den flee, » 
 
 When a bold yc ..u so swift pursues, 
 And siege of tenderest courtesy. 
 
 With hope perseveraut, stiU renews ! 
 Why fly so fast ? H or flatter d breast 
 
 Thanks him who fimjs her fair and good; 
 Slid loves her fears; YiA'd joys arrest 
 
 The foolish terrors of her blood ; 
 By secret, sweet degrees, her heart, 
 
 Yanquish'd, takes warmtli from his desire ; 
 She makes it more, with hidden art, 
 
 And fuels love's late dreaded fire.
 
 100 THE ANGEL IN TriE HOUSE. 
 
 The generous credit be accords 
 
 To al] the signs of good in her 
 Redeems itself; his praiseful words 
 
 The virtues they impute confer. 
 Her heart is thrice as rich in bliss, 
 
 She's three times gentler than before ; 
 He gains a right to call her his, 
 
 Xow she through him is so much more ; 
 "Tis heaven where'er she turns her head; 
 
 "Tis music when she talks ; 'tis air 
 On which, elate, she seems to tread. 
 
 The convert of a gladder sphere ! 
 All, might he, when by doubts aggrievetl. 
 
 Behold his tokens next her breast. 
 At all his words and sighs perceived 
 
 Against its blythe upheaval press'd I 
 2ut still she flies. Should she be won, 
 
 It must not be believed or thought 
 She yields ; she's cliased to death, undone. 
 
 Surprised, and violently caught. 
 
 II. 
 Denied. 
 
 The storm-cloud, whose portentous shade 
 Fumes from a core of smother'd fire, 
 
 His livery is whose worshipp'd maid 
 Denies herself to his desire.
 
 PRELUDES. 101 
 
 All, grief that almost crushes life, 
 
 To lie upon his lonely bed, 
 And fancy her another's wife ! 
 
 His brain is flame, his heart is lead. 
 Sinking at last, by nature's course, 
 
 Cloak' d round with sleep from his despa'r, 
 He does but sleep to gather force 
 
 That goes to his exhausted care. 
 He wakes renew'd for all the smart. 
 
 His only Love, and she is wed ! 
 Plis fondness comes about his heart, 
 
 As milk comes, when the babe is dead. 
 The wretch, whom she found fit for scorn, 
 
 His own allegiant thoughts despise ; 
 And far into the shining morn 
 
 Lazy with misery he lies. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Churl. 
 
 Tliis marks the Churl : when spousals crovni 
 His selfish hope, he finds the grace, 
 
 Which sweet love has for ev'n the clowi:, 
 Was not in the woman, but the chace.
 
 102 
 
 THE ABDICATION. 
 
 1 
 
 From little signs, like little stars, 
 
 Whose faint impression on the sense 
 The very looking straight at mars. 
 
 Or only seen by confluence ; 
 From instinct of a mutual thought, 
 
 Whence sanctity of manners flow'd ; 
 From chance unconscious, and from what 
 
 Concealment, oyerconscious, show'd; 
 Her hand's less weight upon my arm. 
 
 Her lowlier mien ; that match'd witli tliis ; 
 I found, and felt with strange alarm 
 
 I stood committed to my bliss. 
 
 I grew assured, before I ask'd, 
 
 That she'd be mine without reserve. 
 And in her unclaim'd graces bask'd, 
 
 At leism-e, till the time should serve. 
 With just enough of dread to thrill 
 
 The hope, and make it trebly dear ; 
 Thus loth to speak the word to kiU 
 
 Either the hope or happy fear.
 
 THE ABDICATION. 103 
 
 3 
 
 Till once, througli lanes returning late, 
 
 Her laughing sisters lagg'd behind; 
 And, ere we reach'd her father's gate, 
 
 We paused with one presentient mind ; 
 And, in the dim and perfumed mist, 
 
 Their coming stay'd, who, friends to me, 
 And very women, loved to assist 
 
 Love's timid opportunity. 
 
 Twice rose, twice died my trembling word; 
 
 The faint and frail Cathedral chimes 
 Spake time in music, and we heard 
 
 The chafers rustling in the limes. 
 Her dress, that touch'd me where I stood, 
 
 The warmth of her confided arm, 
 Her bosom's gentle neighbourhood. 
 
 Her pleasure in her power to charm ; 
 Her look, her love, her form, her touch, 
 
 The least seem'd most by blissful turn, 
 Blissful but that it pleased too much, 
 
 And taught the wayward soul to yearn. 
 It was as if a harp with wires 
 
 AVas traversed by the breath I drew; 
 And, oh, sweet meeting of desires, 
 
 She, answering, own'd that she loved too.
 
 104 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Honoria was to be my bride ! 
 
 The hopeless heights of hope were soak cl 
 The summit won, I paused aud sigh'd, 
 
 As if success itself had fail'd. 
 It seem'd as if my lips approach'd 
 
 To touch at Tantalus' reward, 
 And rashly on Eden life eneroach'd, 
 
 Half -blinded by the flaming sword. 
 The whole world's wealthiest and its best . 
 
 So fiercely sought, appear'd when found. 
 Poor in its need to be possess'd, 
 
 Poor from its very want of bound. 
 My queen was crouching at my side, 
 
 By love unsceptred and brought low, 
 Her awful garb of maiden pride 
 
 All melted into tears like snow ; 
 The mistress of my reverent thought, 
 
 "Whose praise was all I ask'd of fame. 
 In my close- watch'd approval sought 
 
 Protection as from danger aud blame ; 
 Her soul, which late I loved to invest 
 
 With pity for my poor desert, 
 Buried its face within my breast. 
 
 Like a pet faAvn by hunters hurt.
 
 105 
 
 3S0Cife ih 
 
 THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 Her sons pursue tlie butterflies, 
 
 Her baby daugliter mocks the doves 
 "With throbbing coo ; in bis fond eyes 
 
 She's Yenus with her little Loves ; 
 Her footfall dignifies the earth, 
 
 Her form's the native-land of grace, 
 And, lo, his coming liglits with mirth 
 
 Its court and capital her face ! 
 Full proud her favour makes her lord, 
 
 And that her flatter'd bosom knows. 
 She takes his arm without a word, 
 
 In lanes of laurel and of rose. 
 Ten years to-day has she been his. 
 
 He but begins to understand. 
 He says, the dignity and ])liss 
 
 She gave him when she gave licr hand.
 
 106 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 She, answering, says, lie disenchants 
 
 The past, though that was perfect ; he 
 Rejoins, the present nothing wants 
 
 But briefness to be ecstasy. 
 He lauds her charms ; her beauty's glow 
 
 Wins from the spoiler Time new rays ; 
 Bright looks reply, approving so 
 
 Beauty's elixir vitae, praise. 
 Upon a beech he bids her mark 
 
 Where, ten years since, he carved her name ; 
 It grows there with the growing bark, 
 
 And in his heart it grows the same. 
 For that her soft arm presses his 
 
 Close to her fond, maternal breast ; 
 He tells her, each new kindness is 
 
 The effectual sum of all the rest ! 
 And, whilst the cushat, mocking, coo'd, 
 
 They blest the days they had been wed. 
 At cost of those in which he woo'd. 
 
 Till everything was three times said ; 
 And words were growing vain, when Briggs, 
 
 Factotum, Footman, Butler, Groom, 
 Who press'd the cyder, fed the pigs, 
 
 Preserv'd the rabbits, drove the brougham, 
 And help'd, at need, to mow the lawns. 
 
 And sweep the paths and thatch the hay, 
 Here brought the Post down, Mrs. Yaughan's 
 
 Sole rival, but, for once, to-day.
 
 THE Pr.OLOGUE. 107 
 
 Scarce looked at ; for the ' Second Book,' 
 
 Till this tenth festival kept close, 
 Was thus commenced, while o'er them shook 
 
 The laurel married with the rose. 
 
 2 
 
 * Tlie pulse of War, whose bloody heats 
 
 * Sane purposes insanely work, 
 
 * Now with fraternal frenzy beats, 
 
 ' And binds the Christian to the Turk. 
 
 * And shrieking fifes ' 
 
 3 
 
 But, with a rc.i. . 
 
 In rusird the Loves ; the tallest roU'd 
 A hedgehog from his pinafore. 
 
 Which saved his fingers ; Baby, bold, 
 Touch'd it, and stared, and scream'd for life. 
 
 And stretch'd her hand for Yaughan to kiss. 
 Who hugg'd his Pet, and ask'd his wife, 
 
 ' Is this for love, or love for this ? ' 
 But she turn'd pale, for, lo, the beast, 
 
 Found stock-still in the rabbit-trap. 
 And feigning so to be deceased. 
 
 And laid l)y Frank upon her lap,
 
 108 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 TJuglobed himself, and sliow'd his snout, 
 
 And fell, scatt'ring the Loves amain, 
 With shriek, vriih laughter, and with shout 
 
 And, peace at last restored again. 
 The bard, who this untimely hitch 
 
 Bore with a calm magnanimous, 
 (The hedgehog rolled into a ditch, 
 
 And Yenus sooth'd), proceeded thus :
 
 109 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Song of Songs. 
 
 The pulse of War, whose bloody heats 
 
 Sane purposes insanely work, 
 Now with fraternal frenzy beats, 
 
 And binds the Christian to the Turk. 
 And shrieking fifes and braggart flags, 
 
 Through quiet England, teach our bre;i tli 
 The courage corporate that drags 
 
 The coward to heroic death. 
 Too lato for song ! Who henceforth sings, 
 
 Must fledge his heavenly flight with more 
 Song-worthy and heroic things 
 
 Thau hasty, home -destroying war. 
 While might and right are not agreed. 
 
 And battle thus is yet to wage. 
 So long let laurels be the meed 
 
 Of soldier as of poet sage ;
 
 110 THE AXGEL IN THE HOTJSS. 
 
 But men expect the Tale of Love, 
 And weary of tlie Tale of Hate ; 
 
 Lift me, Muse, myself above, 
 Aud let the world uo longer wait ! 
 
 The Kites. 
 
 I saw three Cupids (so I dream'd), 
 
 Who made three kites, on which were drawn. 
 In letters that like roses gleam'd, 
 
 ' Plato,' ' Anacreon,' aud ' Yaughan.' 
 The boy who held by Plato tried 
 
 His airy venture first ; all sail. 
 It heav'nward rush'd till scarce descried. 
 
 Then pitch'd and dropp'd for want of tail. 
 Anacreon's Love, with shouts of mirth 
 
 That pride of spirit thus should fall. 
 To his kite link'd a lump of earth, 
 
 And, lo, it would not soar at all. 
 Last, my disciple freighted his 
 
 With a long streamer made of flowers, 
 The children of the sod. aud this 
 
 Rose in the sun, aud flew for hours.
 
 PRELUDES. Ill 
 
 III. 
 
 Orpheus. 
 
 The music of the Sirens found 
 
 Ulysses weak, though cords were strong ; 
 But happier Orpheus stood unbound, 
 
 And shamed it with a sweeter song. 
 His mode be mine. Of Heav'n I ask, 
 
 May I, with heart-persuading might, 
 Pursue the Poet's sacred task 
 
 Of superseding faith by sight, 
 Till ev'n the witless Gadarene, 
 
 Preferring Christ to swine, shall know 
 That life is sweetest when it's clean. 
 
 To prouder folly let me show 
 Earth hy divine light made divine ; 
 
 And let the saints, who hear my word. 
 Say, ' Lo, the clouds begin to shine 
 
 ' About the coming of the Lord ! ' 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nearest the Dearest. 
 
 Till Eve was brought to Adam, he 
 
 A solitary desert trod, 
 Tliough in the great society 
 
 Of nature, angels, and of God.
 
 112 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 If one slight column coimterweiglis 
 Tlie ocean, 'tis the Maker's law, 
 
 Who deems obedience better praise 
 Than sacrifice of erring awe. 
 
 V. 
 
 Perspective. 
 "What seems to us for us is true. 
 
 The planet has no proper light. 
 And yet,, when Yenus is in view, 
 
 Xo primal star is half so bright. 
 
 ACCEPTED. 
 1 
 
 What fortune did my heart foretell ? 
 
 What shook my spirit, as I woke, 
 Like the A^bration of a bell 
 
 Of which I had not heard the stroke ? 
 Was it some happy vision shut 
 
 From memory by the sun's fresh ray ." 
 Was it that linnet's song ; or but 
 
 A natural gratitude for day ? 
 Or the mere joy the senses weave. 
 
 A wayward ecstasy of life ? 
 Then I remember'd, yester-eve 
 
 I won Honoria for mv Wife.
 
 ACCEPTED. 113 
 
 Forth riding, wliile as yet the day 
 
 Was dewy, watching Sarum Spire, 
 Still beckoning me along my way, 
 
 And growing every minute higher, 
 I reaclvd the Dean's. One blind was down. 
 
 Though nine then struck. My bride to 
 be: 
 And had slie rested ill, my own, 
 
 AYith thinking (oh, my heart !) of me? 
 I paced the streets ; a pistol chose. 
 
 To guard my now important life 
 When riding late from Sarum Close ; 
 
 At noon return'd. Good Mrs. Fife, 
 To my, ' The Dean, is he at home ? ' 
 
 Said, ' Xo, sir ; but Miss Honor is ; * 
 And straight, not asking if I'd come, 
 
 Announced me, ' Mr. Felix, Miss,' 
 To Mildred, in the Study. Tliere 
 
 We talk'd, she working. We agre3d 
 The day was fine ; the Fancy-Fair 
 
 Successful ; ' Did I ever read 
 • De Genlis ? ' ' N'ever.' ' Do ! She heard 
 
 ' I was engaged.' ' To whom ? ' ' Miss Fry 
 ' Was it the fact ? ' ' No I ' ' On my word ? ' 
 
 ' What scandal people talk'd ! ' ' Would I
 
 114 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' Hold out this skein of silk.' So pass'd 
 
 I knew not liow much time away. 
 ' Huw were her sisters ? ' ' Well.' At last 
 
 I snmmon'd heart enough to say, 
 ' I hoped to have seen Miss Churchill too.' 
 
 ' Miss Churchill, Felix I What is this ? 
 ' I said, and now I find 'tis true, 
 
 ' Last night you quarrell'd ! Here she is.' 
 
 She came, and seem'd a morning rose 
 
 When rufiliug rain has paled its blush; 
 Her crown once more was on her brows ; 
 
 And, with a faint, indignant flush. 
 And fainter smile, she gave her hand, 
 
 But not her eyes, then sate apart, 
 As if to make me understand 
 
 The honour of her ranquish'd heart. 
 But I drew humbly to her side ; 
 , And she, well pleased, perceiving me 
 Liege ever to the noble pride 
 
 Of her unconquer'd majesty, 
 Once and for all put it away ; 
 
 The faint flush pass'd ; and, thereupon, 
 Her loveliness, which rather lay 
 
 In light than colour, smiled and shone,
 
 ACCEPTED. 115 
 
 Till sick was all my soul with bliss ; 
 
 Or was it witli remorse and ire 
 Of sueli a sanctity as this 
 
 Subdued by love to my desire ?
 
 116 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 ®lj^ ffiours^ 0f (Ixm Kobe. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Changed Allegiance. 
 
 Watch how a bird, that captived slugs, 
 The cage set open, first looks out, 
 
 Tet fears the freedom of his yrings. 
 And now withdraws, and flits al)Out, 
 
 And now looks forth again ; until. 
 
 Grown bold, he hops on stool and cliair. 
 
 And now attains the window-sill. 
 And now confides himself to air. 
 
 The maiden so, from love's free sky- 
 In chaste and prudent counsels caged. 
 
 But longing to be loosen'd by 
 
 Her suitor's faith declared and gaged. 
 
 When blest witli that release desired, 
 First doubts if truly she is free. 
 
 Then pauses, restlessly retired, 
 Alarm'd at too much liberty ;
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 117 
 
 But soou, remembering all her debt 
 
 To plighted passion, gets by rote 
 Her duty ; says, ' I love him ! ' yet 
 
 The thought half chokes her in her t]iroa< ; 
 And, like that fatal ' I am thine,' 
 
 Comes with alternate gush and check 
 And joltings of the heart, as wine 
 
 Pour'd from a flask of narrow neck. 
 Is lie indeed her choice ? She fears 
 
 Her Yes was rashly said, and shame. 
 Remorse and ineffectual tears 
 
 Revolt from his conceded claim. 
 Oh, treason ! So, with desperate nerve. 
 
 She cries, ' I am in love, am his ; ' 
 Lets run the cables of reserve. 
 
 And floats into a sea of bliss. 
 And laughs to think of her alarm. 
 
 Avows she was in love before, 
 Though his avowal was the charm 
 
 Wliich open'd to her own the door. 
 She loves him for his mastering air. 
 
 Whence, Parthian-like, she slaying flies ; 
 His flattering look, which seems to wear 
 
 Her loveliness in manly eyes ; 
 His smile, which, by reverse, j)ortends 
 
 An awful wrath, should reason stir; 
 (How fortunate it is they're friends. 
 
 And he will ne'er be wroth with her I)
 
 118 THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 His power to do or guard from liarm ; 
 
 If lie but cliose to use it half. 
 And catch her up in one strong arm, 
 
 What could she do but weep, or laugh ! 
 His words, which still instruct, but so 
 
 That this applause seems stlQ implied, 
 * How wise in all she ought to know, 
 
 ' How ignorant of all beside I ' 
 His skilful suit, which leaves her free, 
 
 Gives nothing for the world to name. 
 And keeps her conscience safe, while he. 
 
 With half the bliss, takes all the blame ; 
 His clear repute with great and small ; 
 
 The jealousy his choice will stir ; 
 But ten times more than ten times all. 
 
 She loves him for his love of her. 
 How happy 'tis he seems to see 
 
 In her that utter loveliness 
 Which she, for his sake, longs to be ! 
 
 At times, she cannot but confess 
 Her other friends are somewhat blind ; 
 
 Her parents' years excuse neglect, 
 But all the rest are scarcely kind, 
 
 And brothers grossly want respect ; 
 And oft slie A'iews what he admires 
 
 Within her glass, and sight of this 
 Makes all the sum of her desires 
 
 To be devotion unto his.
 
 PRELUDES. 119 
 
 But still, at first, wLatever's done, 
 
 A touch, her hand press'd lightly, she 
 Stands dizzied, shock'd, and flush'd, like one 
 
 Set sudden neck-deep in the sea ; 
 And, though her bond for endless time 
 
 To his good pleasure gives her o'er, 
 Tlie slightest favour seems a crime. 
 
 Because it makes her love him more. 
 But that she ne'er will let him know ; 
 
 For what were love should reverence cease ? 
 A thought which makes her reason so 
 
 Inscrutable, it seems caprice. 
 With her, as with a desperate town, 
 
 Too weak to stand, too proud to treat, 
 Tlie conqueror, thougli the walls are down. 
 
 Has still to capture street by street ; 
 But, after that, habitual faith, 
 
 Divorced from self, where late 'twas due, 
 Walks nobly in its novel path, 
 
 And she's to changed allegiance true ; 
 And prizing what slie can't prevent, 
 
 (Right wisdom, often misdeem'd whim), 
 Her will 's indomitably bent 
 
 On mere submissiveness to him ; 
 To him she'll cleave, for him forsake 
 
 Father's and mother's fond command ! 
 He is her lord, for he can take 
 
 Hold of her faint heart with his hand.
 
 120 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 II. 
 
 Beauty. 
 
 * Beauty deludes.' shaft well sliot, 
 
 To strike the mark's true opposite ! 
 That ugly good is scorn'd proves not 
 
 'Tis beauty lies, but lack of it. 
 By Heaven's lavr the Jew might take 
 
 A slave to wife, if she was fair ; 
 So strong a plea does beauty make 
 
 That, where 'tis seen, discretion's there. 
 If, by a monstrous chance, we learn 
 
 Tliat this illustrious vaunt 's a lie, 
 Our minds, by which the eyes discern, 
 
 See hideous contrariety. 
 And laugh at Xature's wanton mood. 
 
 "Which, thus a swinish thing to flout, 
 Though haply in its gross way good, 
 
 Hangs such a jewel in its snout. 
 
 III. 
 
 Lais and Liicretia. 
 
 Did fii'st his beauty wake her sighs ? 
 
 That's Lais ! Thus Lucretia's known : 
 The beauty in her Lover's eyes 
 
 Was admiration of her own.
 
 121 
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 
 1 
 
 Oil, beating heart of sweet alarm, 
 
 Which stays the lover's step, wheu near 
 His mistress and her awful charm 
 
 Of grace and innocence sincere ! 
 I held the half-shut door, and heard 
 
 The voice of my betrothed wife. 
 Who sang my verses, every word 
 
 By music taught its latent life ; 
 Witli interludes of well-touch'd notes, 
 
 Tliat flash'd, surprising and serene, 
 As meteor after meteor floats 
 
 The soft, autumnal stars between. 
 There was a passion in her tone, 
 
 A tremor when she touch'd the keys, 
 Which told me she was there alone, 
 
 And uttering all her soul at ease. 
 1 enter'd ; for I did not choose 
 
 To learn how in her heart I throve, 
 By chance or stealth ; beyond her us3, 
 
 Her greeting flatter'd me wdth love. 
 
 2 
 With true love's treacherous confidence, 
 
 And ire, at last to laughter won, 
 She spoke this speech, and mark'd its sense, 
 
 By action, as her Aunt had done.
 
 122 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE 
 
 3 
 
 * " You, with your looks and catcliiiig air, 
 
 ' " To think of Yaughau ! You fool! You 
 know, 
 
 * " You might, with ordinary care, 
 
 ' " Ev'n yet be Lady Clitheroe.. 
 ' " You're sure he'll do great things some day I 
 ' "Xonsense, he won't; he's dress'd too well. 
 
 * " Dines with the Sterling Club, they say ; 
 
 ' " Not commonly respectable ! 
 ' '* Half Puritan, half Cavalier ! 
 
 * " His curly hair I think's a wig ; 
 ' " And, for his fortune, why my Dear, 
 
 ' " 'Tis not enough to keep a gig. 
 
 * " Rich Aunts and Uncles never die ; 
 
 ' " And what you bring won't do for dress : 
 ' " And so you'll live on By-and-bye, 
 • " With oaten-cake and water-cress ! " 
 
 4 
 ' I cried, but did not let her see. 
 
 ' At last she soften'd her dispraise, 
 ' On learning you had bought for me 
 
 ' A carriage and a pair of bays. 
 ' But here she comes ! You take her in 
 
 ' To dinner. I impose this task : 
 ' Make her approve my love ; and win 
 
 ' What thanks from me vou e lioose to ask I '
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 123 
 
 ' My niece lias told you every word 
 ' I said of you ! What may I mean ? 
 Of course sbe has ; but you've not heard 
 ' How I abused you to the Dean ; — 
 ' Yes, I'll take wine ; he's mad, like her ; 
 ' And she w ill have you : there it ends I 
 ' And, now I've done my duty, Sir, 
 ' And you've shown common-sense, 
 friends I ' 
 
 6 
 
 ' Go, child, and see him out yourself,' 
 Aunt Maude said, after tea, ' and show 
 
 ' The place, upon that upper shelf, 
 
 ' Where Petrarch stands, lent long ago. 
 
 ' These rose-leaves to my heart be press'd, 
 
 •' Honoria, while it aches for you ! ' 
 (The rose in ruin, from her breast, 
 
 Fell, as I took a fond adieu.) 
 ' Tou must go now. Love ! ' ' See, the air 
 
 ' Is thick with starlight ! ' ' Let me tie 
 ' This scarf on. Oh, your Petrarch ! There . 
 
 ' I'm coming, Aunt ! ' ' Sweet, Sweet ! 
 ' Good-bye 1 '
 
 124 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' All, Love, to me 'tis death to ]}nri, 
 ' Yet yon, my sever'd life, smile on ! ' 
 
 * These " Good-uights," Felix, break my heart 
 
 ' I'm only gay till you are gone ! ' 
 With love's bright arrows from her eyes. 
 
 And balm on her permissive lips, 
 She pass'd, and night was a surprise, 
 
 As wlien tlie sun at Quito dips. 
 Eer bean ties were like sunlit snows, 
 
 Flush'd but not wann'd with my desire. 
 Oh, how I loved her ! Fiercely glows 
 
 In the pure air of frost the fii-e. 
 Who for a year is sure of fate ! 
 
 I thought, dishearten'd as I went, 
 Wroth with the Dean, who bade me waii. 
 
 And vex'd with her, who soeni'd content. 
 Kay, could etenial life afford 
 
 That tyranny should thus deduct 
 From this fair land, which call'd me lord, 
 
 A year of the sweet usufruct ? 
 It might not and it should not be ! 
 
 I'd go back now, and he must own. 
 At once, my love's compulsive plea. 
 
 I turn'd, I found the Dean alone. 
 
 * Nonsense, my friend ; go back to bed ! 
 
 ' It's half -past twelve ! ' ' July, then, Sir ! ' 
 
 * Well, come to-morrow,' at last he said, 
 
 'And vou mav talk of it with her.'
 
 THE COURSE OF TRUE LOVE. 125 
 
 A light gleam'cl as I pass'd the stair. 
 
 A pausing foot, a flash of dress, 
 And a sweet voice. ' Is Felix there ? ' 
 
 'July, Love!' * Says Papa so ? ' 'Yes!'
 
 128 
 
 THE COUNTY BALL. 
 
 "Well, Heaven be thank'd my first-love fail'd, 
 As, Heaven be thank'd, our first-loves do ! 
 
 Thought I, when Fanny past me sail'd, 
 Loved once, for what I never knew, 
 
 Unless for coloui '^" i lier talk, 
 
 When cheeks A , moutli would show 
 
 mi yeremov' -,, 
 
 Three roses on a J • .alk, 
 
 The middle wanting' room to blow, 
 And forward vriijs,\l..d chaiTu'd tlie boy 
 
 Whose love-sick mind, misreading fate, 
 Scarce hoped thnt any Queen of Joy 
 
 Could ever str p to be his mate. 
 
 But there danced she, wlio from the leaven 
 
 Of ill preserv'd my heart and wit 
 All unawares, for she was lieaA'en. 
 
 Others at best but fit for it. 
 One of those lovely things she was 
 
 In whose least action there can he 
 Nothing so transient but it has 
 
 An air of immortalitv.
 
 THE COUNTY BALL. 129 
 
 I mark'd lier step, witli peace elate, 
 
 Her brow more beautiful than mom, 
 Her sometime look of girlish state 
 
 Wliicli sweetly waived its right to scoru ; 
 The giddy crowd, she grave the wliile, 
 
 Although, as 'twere beyond her will. 
 Around her mouth the baby smile 
 
 That she was born with linger'd still. 
 Her ball-dress seem'd a breathing mist, 
 
 From the fair form exhaled and shed, 
 Raised in the dance with arm and wrist 
 
 All warmth and light, unbraceleted. 
 Her motion, feeling 'twas beloved, 
 
 The pensive soul of tune express'd, 
 And, oh, what perfume, as she moved, 
 
 Came from the flowers in her breast ! 
 How sweet a tongue the music had ! 
 
 ' Beautiful Girl,' it seem'd to say, 
 ' Though all the world were vile and sad, 
 
 ' Dance on ; let innocence be gay.' 
 Ah, none but I discern'd her looks. 
 
 When in the throng she pass'd me by. 
 For love is like a ghost, and brooks 
 
 Only the chosen seer's eye ; 
 And who but she could e'er divine 
 
 The halo and the happy trance, 
 When her bright arm reposed on mine, 
 
 In all the pauses of the dance ! 
 E— 70
 
 130 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 "VYliilst so lier beauty fed my sigiit. 
 
 And whilst I lived in what she said. 
 Accordant airs, like all delight 
 
 Most sweet when noted least, were play'd; 
 And was it like the Pharisee 
 
 If I in secret bow'd my face 
 With joyful thanks that I should be, 
 
 Xot as were many, but with grace 
 And fortune of well-nurtured youtii, 
 
 And days no sordid pains defile. 
 And thoughts accustom'd to the trmh, 
 
 Made capable of her fair smile ? 
 
 Charles Barton follow'd down the stair, 
 
 To talk with me about the Ball, 
 And carp at all the people there. 
 
 The Churchills chiefly stirr'd his gall : 
 ' Such were tlie Kriemhilds and Isondes 
 
 ' You storm'd about at Trinity I 
 ' Nothing at heart but handsome Blondes ! 
 
 * Folk say that you and Fanny Fry — ' 
 ' They err ! Good-night ! Here lies my course, 
 
 ' Through Wilton.' Silence blest my ears, 
 And, weak at heart with vague remorse, 
 
 A passing poignancy of tears
 
 THE COUNTY BALL. 131 
 
 Attaek'd mine eyes. By pale aucl park 
 
 I rode, aud ever seem'd to see, 
 lu the transparent starry dark. 
 
 That splendid brow of cliastity, 
 That soft and yet subduing light, 
 
 At which, as at the sudden moon, 
 I held my breath, and thought ' how bright ! ' 
 
 That guileless beauty in its noon, 
 Compelling tribute of desires 
 
 Ardent as day when Sirius reigns, 
 Pure as the permeating fires 
 
 That smoulder in the opal's veins.
 
 132 
 
 CANTO lY. 
 
 %obt in 85kn^ss, 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 Honour and Desert. 
 
 O QTJEEN, awake to thy renown, 
 
 Require what 'tis our wealth to give, 
 And comprehend and wear the crown 
 
 Of thy despised prerogative ! 
 I, who in manhood's name at length 
 
 With glad songs come to abdicate 
 The gross regality of strength, 
 
 Must yet in this thy praise abate, 
 That, through thine erring humbleness 
 
 And disregard of thy degree, 
 Mainly, has man been so much less 
 
 Than fits his fellowship with thee. 
 High thoughts had shaped the foolish brow, 
 
 The coward liad grasp"d the hero's sword. 
 The vilest had been great, hadst thou. 
 
 Just to thyself, been worth's reward.
 
 PRELUDES. 133 
 
 But lofty honours uiulorsold 
 
 Seller and buyer botli disgrace ; 
 And favours that make folly bold 
 
 Banish the liorht from virtue's face. 
 
 II. 
 
 Love and Honour. 
 
 What man with baseness so content, 
 
 Or sick with false conceit of right, 
 As not to know tliat the element 
 
 And inmost warmth of love's delight 
 Is honour ? Who'd not rather kiss 
 
 A duchess than a milkmaid, x^rank 
 The two in equal grace, which is 
 
 Precedent N"ature's obvious rank ? 
 Much rather, then, a woman deck'd 
 
 With saintly honours, chaste and good. 
 Whose thoughts celestial things affect. 
 
 Whose eyes express her heavenly mood ! 
 Those lesser vaunts are dimm'd or lost 
 
 Which plume her name or paint her lip, 
 Extinct in the deep-glowing boast 
 
 Of her angelic fellowship.
 
 134 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 III. 
 
 Valour misdirected. 
 
 ' I'll hunt for dangers North and South, 
 ' To prove my love, which sloth maligns ! 
 
 What seems to say her rosy mouth ? 
 
 ' I'm not convinced by proofs but signs.' 
 
 LOVE IX IDLENESS. 
 I 
 What should I do ? In such a wife 
 
 Fortune had lavish'd all her store, 
 And nothing now seeni'd left for life 
 
 But to deserve her more and more. 
 To this I vow'd my life's whole scope ; 
 
 And Love said, ' I forewarn you now, 
 ' The Maiden will fulfil your hope 
 
 ' Only as you fulfil your vow.' 
 
 A promised service, (task for days), 
 
 Was done this morning while she slept, 
 
 With that full heart which thinks no praise 
 Of vows which are not more than kept ;
 
 LOVE IN IDLENESS. 135 
 
 But loftier work did love impose, 
 And studious hours. Alas, for these, 
 
 Wliile she from all my thoughts arose 
 Like Venus from the restless seas ! 
 
 3 
 
 I conn'd a scheme, with mind elate : 
 
 My Uncle's land would fall to me, 
 My skill was much in school debate, 
 
 My friends were strong in Salisbury ; 
 A place in Parliament once gain'd, 
 
 Thro' saps first labour'd out of sight, 
 Far loftier peaks were then attain'd 
 
 With easy leaps from height to height ; 
 And that o'erwhelmiug honour paid, 
 
 Or recognised, at least, in life. 
 Which this most sweet and noble Maid 
 
 Should yield to him who call'd her Wife. 
 
 I fix'd this rule : in Sarum Close 
 
 To make two visits every week, 
 The first, to-day ; and, save on those, 
 
 I nought would do, think, read, or speak, 
 Which did not help my settled wiU 
 
 To earn the Statesman's proud applause. 
 And now, forthwith, to mend my skill 
 
 In ethics, politics, and laws,
 
 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Tlie Statesmau's leamiug ! Flusli'd witli power 
 
 And pride of f reshly-f orm'd resolve, 
 I read Helvetius lialf-au-bour ; 
 
 But, lialting in attempts to solve 
 Why, more than all things else that be, 
 
 A lady's grace hath force to move 
 That sensitive appetency 
 
 Of intellectual good, call'd love, 
 Took Blackstone down, only to draw 
 
 My swift -deriving thoughts ere long 
 To love, which is the source of law, 
 
 And, like a king, can do no wrong ; 
 Then open'd Hyde, where loyal hearts, 
 
 Witli faith unpropp'd by precedent, 
 Began to play rebellious parts. 
 
 O, mighty stir that little meant I 
 How dull the crude, plough'd fields of fact 
 
 To me who trod the Elysian grove ! 
 How idle all heroic act 
 
 By the least suffering of love I 
 I could not read ; so took my pen, 
 
 And thus commenced, in form of notes, 
 A Lecture for the Salisbury men. 
 
 With due regard to Tory votes : 
 ' A road's a road, though worn to ruts ; 
 
 ' They speed who travel straight therein ; 
 ' But he who tacks and tries short cuts 
 
 ' Gets fools' praise and a broken shin — '
 
 LOYE IN IDLENESS. 
 
 And liere I stopp'd iu sheer despair ; 
 
 But, what to-day was thus begun, 
 I Yow'd, up starting from my chair, 
 
 To-morrow shonid indeed be done ; 
 So loosed my cliafing thoughts from school, 
 
 To play with fancy as they chose, 
 And then, according to my ride, 
 
 I dress'd, and came to Sarum Close. 
 
 Ah, that sweet laugh ! Diviner sense 
 Did !N'ature, forming her, inspire 
 
 To omit the grosser elements, 
 
 And make her all of air and fire ! 
 
 6 
 To-morrow, Cowes' Regatta fell : 
 
 The Dean would like his girls to go, 
 If I went too. ' Most gladly.' Well. 
 
 I did but break a foolish vow ! 
 Unless Love's toil has love for ])rize, 
 
 (And then he's Hercules), above 
 All other contrarieties 
 
 Is labour contrary to love. 
 Xo fault of Love's, but nature's laws ! 
 
 And Love, in idleness, lies quick ; 
 For as the worm whose powers make pause, 
 
 And swoon, tlirough alteration sick.
 
 138 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 The soiil, its wingless state dissolved, 
 Awaits its nuptial life complete, 
 
 All indolently seK-conrolved, 
 Cocoon'd in silken fancies sweet.
 
 139 
 
 CANTO V. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 Hejected. 
 
 'Perhaps she's clancmg somewhere now ! ' 
 
 The thoughts of light and music wake 
 Sharp jealousies, that grow and grow 
 
 Till silence and the darkness ache. 
 He sees her step, so proud and gay, 
 
 Which, ere he spake, foretold despair : 
 Thus did she look, on such a day, 
 
 And such the fashion of her hair ; 
 And thus she stood, when, kneeling low, 
 
 He took the bramble from her dress, 
 And thus she laugh'd and talk'd, whose ' No' 
 
 "Was sweeter than another's ' Yes.' 
 He feeds on thoughts that mosrt deject ; 
 
 He impudently feigns her charms. 
 So reverenced in his own respect, 
 
 Dreadfully clasp'd by other arms ;
 
 140 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 And turus, and puts liis brows, that ache, 
 Agaiust the pillow where 'tis cold. 
 
 If, ouIy uow his heart would break ! 
 But, oh, how much a heart can hold. 
 
 II. 
 Bachel. 
 
 You loYed her, and would lie all night 
 
 Thinking how beautiful she was, 
 And what to do for her delight. 
 
 Now both are bound with alien laws I 
 Be patient ; put jour heart to school ; 
 
 Weep if YOU will, but not despair ; 
 The trust that nought goes wrong hy rule 
 
 Should ease this load the many bear. 
 LoYC, if there's heav'n, shall meet his dues. 
 
 Though here unmatch'd, or match'd amiss 
 Meanwhile, the gentle cannot choose 
 
 But learn to loYe the lii^s they kiss. 
 Xe'er hurt the homely sister's ears 
 
 With Rachel's beauties; secret bo 
 The lofty mind whose lonely tears 
 
 Protest against mortalitY.
 
 THE queen's room. 14j 
 
 III. 
 
 The Heart's Prophecies. 
 
 Be not amazed at life ; 'tis still 
 
 The mode of God witli liis elect 
 Their hopes exactly to fulfil, 
 
 In times and ways they least expect. 
 
 THE QUEEN'S ROOM. 
 
 1 
 There's nothing happier than the days 
 
 In which young Love makes every thought 
 Pure as a bride's blush, when she says 
 
 ' I will ' unto she knows not what ; 
 And lovers, on the love -lit globe, 
 
 For love's sweet sake, walk yet aloof. 
 And hear Time weave the marriage-robe, 
 
 Attraction warp and reverence woof. 
 
 My Housekeeper, my Nurse of yore, 
 Cried, as the latest carriage went, 
 
 ' Well, Mr, Felix, Sir, I'm sure 
 ' The morning's gone off -excellent !
 
 142 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' I never saw the show to pass 
 
 ' The ladies, in their fine fresh gowns, 
 ' So sweetly dancing on the grass, 
 
 ' To mnsic with its ups and downs. 
 ' We'd such work. Sir, to clean the jjlate ; 
 
 ' 'Twas just the busy times of old. 
 ' The Queen's Room, Sir, look'd quite like state. 
 
 ' Miss Smythe, when she went i\]), made bold 
 ' To peep into the Rose Boudoir, 
 
 'And cried, "How charming! all quite new; " 
 
 * And wonder'd who it could be for. 
 
 ' All but Miss Honor look'd in too. 
 'But she's too proud to peep and pry. 
 
 ' None's like that sweet Miss Honor, Sir ! 
 ' Excuse my himibleness, but I 
 
 ' Pray Heav'n you'll get a wife like her ! 
 ' The Poor love dear Miss Honor's ways 
 
 ' Better tlian money. Mrs. Rouse, 
 ' Who ought to know a lady, says 
 
 ' No finer goes to Wilton House. 
 Miss Bagshaw thought that dreary room 
 
 ' Had kili'd old Mrs. Yaughan with fright ; 
 
 * She would not sleep in such a tomb 
 
 ' For all her host was worth a night ! 
 "' Miss Fry, Sir, laugh'd ; they talk'd the rest 
 
 ' In French ; and French Sir's Greek to me : 
 ' But. though they smiled, and seem'd to jest, 
 
 ' 1\ love was lost, for I could see
 
 THE queen's eoom. 143 
 
 ' How serious-like Miss Honor was — ' 
 ' Well, Nurse, this is not my affair. 
 
 ' The ladies talk'd in French with cause. 
 ' Good-day ; and thank you for your prayer.' 
 
 3 
 
 I ioiter'd through the vacant house, 
 
 Soon to h2 her's ; in one room stay'd, 
 Of old my nio'^-ier's. Here my vows 
 
 Of endless thanks were oft^nest paid. 
 This room its first condition kept ; 
 
 For, on her road to Sarum Town, 
 Therein an English Queen had slept, 
 
 Before the Hurst was half puU'd down. 
 The pictured walls the place became : 
 
 Here ran the Brook Anaurus, where 
 Stout Jason bore the wrinkled dame 
 
 Whom serving changed to Juno ; there, 
 Ixion's selfish hope, instead 
 
 Of the nuptial goddess, clasp'd a cloud ; 
 And, here, translated Psyche fed 
 
 Her gaze on Love, not disallow'd. 
 
 4 
 
 And in this chamber had she been. 
 
 And into that she would not look, 
 My, Joy, my Yanity, my Queen, 
 
 At whose dear name my pulses shook !
 
 1-M THE AXGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 To otliers how express at all 
 
 My worship iu that joyfiil shrine ? 
 I scarcely can myself recall 
 
 "What peace and ardour tlien were mine ; 
 And how more sweet than aught below, 
 
 The daylight and its duties done, 
 It felt to fold the hands, and so 
 
 Relinquish all regards but one ; 
 To see her features in the dark, 
 
 To lie and meditate once more 
 The grace I did not fully mark, 
 
 The tone I had not heard before ; 
 And from my pillow then to take 
 
 Her notes, her picture, and her glove, 
 Put there for joy when I should wake, 
 
 And j)ress them to the heart of love ; 
 And then to whisper ' Wife ! ' and i)ray 
 
 To live so long as not to miss 
 That unimaginable daj- 
 
 Which farther seems the nearer 'tis ; 
 And still from joy's unfathom'd well 
 
 To drink, in dreams, while on her brows 
 Of innocence ineifable 
 
 Blossom'd the laughing bridal rose.
 
 145 
 CANTO YI. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 
 Loves Perversity. 
 
 How strange a tiling a lover seems 
 
 To animals that do not love ! 
 Lo, -vrliere he walks and talks in dreams, 
 
 And flouts us with his Lady's glove ; 
 How foreign is the garb he wears ; 
 
 And how his great devotion mocks 
 Our poor propriety, and scares 
 
 The undevout with paradox ! 
 His soul, through scorn of worldly care, 
 
 And great extremes of sweet and gall, 
 And musing much on all that's fair. 
 
 Grows witty and fantastical ; 
 He sobs his joy and sings his grief, 
 
 And evermore finds such delight 
 In simply picturing his relief, 
 
 That 'plaining seems to cure his plight ;
 
 146 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 He makes liis sorrow, when there's none ; 
 
 His fancy blows l3oth cold and hot ; 
 Xext to the wish that she'll be won, 
 
 His first hope is that she may not ; 
 He sues, jet deprecates consent ; 
 
 Would she be captured she must fly ; 
 She looks too happy and content, 
 
 For whose least pleasure he would die ; 
 Oh, cruelty, she cannot care 
 
 For one to whom she's always kind ! 
 He says he's nought, but, oh, despair. 
 
 If he's not Jove to her fond mind ! 
 He's jealous if she pets a dove. 
 
 She must be his with all her soul ; 
 Tet 'tis a postulate in love 
 
 That part is greater than the whole ; 
 And all his apprehension's stress, 
 
 When he's with her, res'ards her hair, 
 Her hand, a ribbon of her dress, 
 
 As if his life were only there ; 
 Because she's constant, he will change, 
 
 And kindest glances coldly meet. 
 And. all the time he seems so strange. 
 
 His soul is fawning at her feet ; 
 Of smiles and simple heaven grown tired, 
 
 He wickedly provokes her tears. 
 And when she weeps, as he desired. 
 
 Falls slain with ecstasies of fears ;
 
 PRELUDES. 147 
 
 He blames her, thougli she has no fault, 
 
 Except the folly to be his ; 
 He worships her, the more to exalt 
 
 The profanation of a kiss ; 
 Health's his disease, he's never well 
 
 Bnt when his paleness shames her rose : 
 His faith's a rock-built citadel, 
 
 Its sign a flag that each way blows ; 
 His o'erfed fancy frets and fumes ; 
 
 And Love, in him, is fierce, like Hate, 
 And rufiles his ambrosial plumes 
 
 Against the bars of time and fate. 
 
 The Power of Love. 
 
 Samson the Miglity, Solomon 
 
 The Wise, and Holy Diivid all 
 Must doff their crowns to Love, for none 
 
 But fell as Love would scorn to fall ! 
 And what may fallen spirits win, 
 
 When stripes and precepts cannot move ? 
 Only the sadness of all sin, 
 
 When look'd at in the light of Love.
 
 148 
 
 THE LOYE-LETTERS. 
 1 
 
 ' You ask, Will acTmiratiou halt, 
 
 ' Should spots appear withiu my Sun ? 
 
 ' Oh. how I wish I kuew your fault, 
 ' For Love's tired gaze to rest upon ! 
 
 • Your graces, which have made me great, 
 
 • Will I so loftily admire, 
 
 ' Yourself yourself shall emulate, 
 
 ' And be yourself your o\vn desire. 
 ' I'll nobly mirror you too fair, 
 
 ' And, when you're false to me your glass, 
 ' What's wanting you'll by that repair, 
 
 ' So bring yourself through me to pass. 
 ' dearest, tell me how to prove 
 
 ' Goodwill which cannot be express'd ; 
 
 • The beneficial heart of love 
 
 ' Is labour in an idle breast. 
 Xame in the world your chosen part, 
 
 • And here I vow, with all the bent 
 And application of my heart 
 
 ' To give myself to your content. 
 Would you live on, home-worshipp'd, thus, 
 
 ' Xot proudly high nor poorly low ? 
 Indeed the lines are f all'n to us 
 
 ' In i)leasant places ! Be it so.
 
 THE LOTE-LETTERS. 140 
 
 ' But would YOU others lieav'uward move, 
 
 ' By sight not faith, while you they admire ? 
 * I'll help with zeal as I approve 
 
 ' That just and merciful desire. 
 ' Higli as the lonely moon to view 
 
 ' I'll lift your light ; do you decree 
 ' Your place, I'll win it ; for from you 
 
 ' Command inspires capacity. 
 ' Or. unseen, would you sway the world 
 
 ' More surely ? Then in gracious rhyme 
 ' I'll raise your emblem, fair uufurl'd 
 
 ' With blessing in the breeze of time. 
 'Faith removes mountains, much more love ; 
 
 ' Let your contempt abolish me 
 ' If ought of your devisal prove 
 
 ' Too hard or high to do or be.' 
 
 I ended. ' From your Sweet-Heart, Sir,' 
 
 Said Xurse, ' The Dean's man brings it down.' 
 I could have kiss'd both him and her ! 
 
 ' Xurse. give him that, with half-a-crown.' 
 How beat my heart, how paused my breath, 
 
 When, with perversely fond delay, 
 I broke the seal, that bore a wreath 
 
 Of roses link'd with one of bay.
 
 150 THE AXGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' I foimd jour note. How very kind 
 ' To leave it there ! I cannot tell 
 
 • How pleased I was, or how yon find 
 
 ' TVords to express your thoughts so weU. 
 ' The Girls are going to the Ball 
 
 ' At "Wilton. If Yon can, do come : 
 ' And any day this week you call 
 
 ' Papa and I shall be at home. 
 ' Ton said to Mary once — I hope 
 
 ' In jest — that women should be yain : 
 ' On Saturday your friend (her Pope), 
 
 ' The Bishop dined with us again. 
 
 * She put the question, if they ought ? 
 
 ' He turn'd it cleverly away 
 ' (For giddy Mildred cried, she thought 
 
 • We must), with " What we must we may. 
 ' Dear papa laugh'd, and said 'twas sad 
 
 • To think how vain his girls would be, 
 ' Above all I^Iary, now she had 
 
 ' Episcopal authority. 
 ' But I was very dull, dear friend, 
 
 ' And went upstairs at last, and cried. 
 ' Be sure to come to-day, or send 
 
 ' A rose-leaf kiss'd on either side.
 
 THE LOVE-LETTERS. 151 
 
 Adieu I I am not well. Last night 
 ' My dreams were wild : I often woke, 
 
 Tl\e summer-lightning was so bright ; 
 • And -v^heu it fiash'd I thought you spoke.'
 
 352 
 
 CANTO Til. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 Joij and Use. 
 
 Can onglit compared -with •wedlock be 
 
 For use ? But He wlio made tlis heart 
 To use proportions joy. "What He 
 
 Has joiu'd let no man put apart. 
 Sweet Order lias its draught of bliss 
 
 Graced with the pearl of God's consent, 
 Ten times delightful in that 'tis 
 
 Considerate and innocent. 
 In vain Disorder grasps the cuj) ; 
 
 The pleasure's not enjoy'd but spilt. 
 And, if he stoops to lick it up, 
 
 It only tastes of earth and guilt. 
 His sorry raptures rest destroys ; 
 
 To lire, like comets, they must roam ; 
 On settled poles turn solid joys. 
 
 And simlike pleasures shine at home.
 
 THE EETULSION. 15^ 
 
 II. 
 
 ' She vjas Mine.' 
 
 ' Thy tears overprize tliy loss I Thy wife, 
 
 ' In wliat -was she particular ? 
 ' Others of comely face and life, 
 
 ' Others as chaste and warm there are, 
 ' And when they speak they seem to sing ; 
 
 ' Beyond her sex she was not wise ; 
 ' And there is no more common thing 
 
 ' Than kindness in a woman's eyes. 
 ' Then wherefore weep so long and fast, 
 
 ' Why so exceedingly repine ! 
 ' Say, how has thy Beloved surpass'd 
 
 ' So much all otliers ? ' ' She was mine.' 
 
 THE REYULSIOX. 
 1 
 'Twas when the spousal time of May 
 
 Hangs all the hedge with bridal wreaths, 
 And air's so sweet the bosom gay 
 
 Give thanks for every breath it breathes, 
 When like to like is gladly moved, 
 
 And each thing joins in Spring's refrain, 
 ' Let those love now who never loved ; 
 
 ' Let those who have loved love again ; '
 
 154 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 That I, in whom the sweet time wrought, 
 
 Lay stretch'd within a lonely glade, 
 Abandon'd to delicious thought 
 
 Beneath the softly twinkling shade. 
 The leaves, all stirring, mimick'd well 
 
 A neighbouring rush of rivers cold, 
 And, as the sun or shadow fell, 
 
 So these were green and those Avere gold ; 
 In dim recesses hyacinths droop'd. 
 
 And breadths of primrose lit the air. 
 Which, wandering through the woodland, stoop 'c. 
 
 And gather'd perfumes here and there ; 
 TJi)on the spray the squirrel swung, 
 
 And careless songsters, six or seven, 
 Sang lofty songs the leaves among. 
 
 Fit for their only listener, Heaven. 
 I sigli'd, ' Immeasurable bliss 
 
 ' Gains nothing by becoming more I 
 ' Millions have meaning ; after this 
 
 ' Cyphers forget the integer.' 
 
 And so I mused, till musing brought 
 A dream that shook my house of clay. 
 
 And, in my humbled heart, I thought. 
 To me there yet may come a day
 
 THE REVULSION. 155 
 
 Witli this tlio single vestige seen 
 
 Of comfort, earthly or divine, 
 My sorrow some time must have been 
 
 Her portion, had it not been mine. 
 Tlien I. who knew, from watching life, 
 
 That blows foreseen are slow to fall, 
 Rehearsed the losing of a wife, 
 
 And faced its terrors each and all. 
 The self-chastising fancy show'd 
 
 The coffin with its ghastly breath ; 
 The innocent sweet face that owed 
 
 Xone of its innocence to death ; 
 The lips that used to laugh ; the knell 
 
 That bade the world beware of mirth ; 
 The heartless and intolerable 
 
 Indignity of ' earth to earth ; ' 
 At mo-n remembering by degrees 
 
 That she I dream'd about was dead ; 
 Love's still recurrent jubilees. 
 
 The days that she was born, won, wed ; 
 Tlie duties of my life the same, 
 
 Their meaning for the feelings gone ; 
 Friendship impertinent, and fame 
 
 Disgusting ; and, more harrowing none, 
 Small household troubles fall'n to me, 
 
 As, ' What time would I dine to-day ? * 
 And, oh, how could I bear to see 
 
 The noisy children at their play.
 
 156 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Besides, vrheve all tilings limp and lialt, 
 
 Could I go straight, should I aloue 
 Have kept my love without default. 
 
 Piteh'd at the true and heavenly tone ? 
 The festal-day might come to mind 
 
 That miss'd the gift which more endears ; 
 The hour which might have been more kind, 
 
 And now less fertile in vain tears ; 
 The good of common intercourse, 
 
 For daintier pleasures, then despised, 
 Now with what passionate remorse, 
 
 What poignancy of hunger prized ! 
 The little wrong, now greatly rued. 
 
 Which no repentance now could right ; 
 And love, in disbelieving mood, 
 
 Deserting his celestial height. 
 Withal to know, God's love sent grief 
 
 To make me less the world's, and more 
 Meek-hearted : ah, the sick relief I 
 
 Why bow'd I not my heart before ? 
 
 3 
 
 ' What,' I exclaimed, with chill alarm, 
 ' If this fantastic horror shows 
 
 The feature of an actual harm 1 ' 
 And, coming straight to Sarum Close,
 
 THE REVrLSION. 
 
 As one who dreams his wife is dead, 
 
 And cannot in his slumber weep, 
 And moans upon his wretched bed, 
 
 And wakes, and finds her there asleep 
 And laughs and sighs, so I, not less 
 
 Relieved, beheld, with blissful start, 
 The light and happy loveliness 
 
 Which lav so heavy on my heart. 
 
 157
 
 158 
 CANTO VIII. 
 
 PRELUDES 
 I. 
 
 In Love. 
 
 If lie's capricious slie'll be so, 
 
 But, if liis duties coustaut are, 
 Slie lets her loving favour glow 
 
 As steady as a tropic star ; 
 Appears there nought for which to weep, 
 
 She'll weep for nought, for his dear sake 
 She clasps her sister in her sleep ; 
 
 Her love in dreams is most awake. 
 Her soul, that once with pleasure shook, 
 
 Did any eyes her beauty o^vu, 
 Now wonders how they dare to look 
 
 On what belongs to him alone ; 
 The indignity of taking gifts 
 
 Exhilarates her loving breast : 
 A rapture of submission lifts 
 
 Her life into celestial rest ;
 
 PRELUDES. 159 
 
 There's notliing left of what she was ; 
 
 Back to the babe the woman dies, 
 Aucl all the wisdom that she has 
 
 Is to love him for being wise. 
 She's confident because she fears ; 
 
 And, though discreet when he's awa}'. 
 If none but her dear despot hears. 
 
 She prattles like a child at play. 
 Perchance, when all her praise is said, 
 
 He tells the news, a battle won, 
 On either side ten thousand dead. 
 
 ' Alas ! ' she says ; but, if 'twere known, 
 She thinks, ' He's looking on my face ! 
 
 ' I am his joy ; whate'er I do, 
 • He sees such time-contenting grace 
 
 ' In that, he'd have me always so ! ' 
 And, evermore, for cither's sake, 
 
 To the sweet folly of the dove, 
 She joins the cunning of the snake, 
 
 To rivet and exalt his love ; 
 Her mode of candour is deceit ; 
 
 And what she thinks from what she'll say 
 (Although I'll never call her cneat), 
 
 Lies far as Scotland from Cathay. 
 Without liis knowledge he was won ; 
 
 Against his nature kept devout ; 
 She'll never tell him how 'twas done, 
 
 And he wiU never find it out.
 
 160 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 If. suddeu, lie suspects her wiles, 
 
 Aucl hears her forging chaiu and trap, 
 And looks, she sits in simple smiles, 
 
 Her TWO hands lying in her lap. 
 Her secret (privilege of the Bard, 
 
 Whose fancy is of either sex), 
 Is mine ; but let the darkness guard 
 
 Myst'ries that light would more perplex ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Love Thinking. 
 
 What lifts her in my thought so far 
 
 Beyond all else ? Let Lcve not err 1 
 'Tis that which all right women are, 
 
 But wliich I'll know in none but her. 
 She is to me the only Ark 
 
 Of that high mystery which locks 
 The lips of joy, or speaks in dark 
 
 Enigmas and in paradox ; 
 That potent charm, which none can fly, 
 
 Nor would, which makes me bond and free, 
 Xor can I tell if first 'twas I 
 
 Chose it. or it elected me; 
 Which, when I look inteutest, lo, 
 
 Cheats most mine eyes, albeit my heart, 
 Content to feel and not to know, 
 
 Perceives it all in every part ;
 
 THE KOH-I-NOOR. 161 
 
 I kiss its cheek ; its life diviue 
 
 Exhales from its resplendent shroud ; 
 Ixion's fate reversed is mine, 
 
 Authentic Juno seems a cloud ; 
 I feel a blessed -warmth, I see 
 
 A bright circumference of rays, 
 But darkness, where the sun should be, 
 
 Fills admiration vriili amaze ; 
 And when, for joy's relief, I tliink 
 
 To fathom with the line of thought 
 The well from which I, blissful, drink. 
 
 The spring's so deej) I come to nought. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Kiss. 
 
 ' I saw you take his kiss I ' ' 'Tis true.' 
 ' O, modesty ! ' ' 'Twas strictly kept : 
 
 ' He thought me asleex^ ; at least, I knew 
 ' He tliought I thouglit he tliought I slept.' 
 
 THE KOH-I-XOOR. ' 
 
 1 
 ' Be man's hard virtues highly wrought, 
 
 ' But let my gentle Mistress be, 
 ' In every look, word, deed, and thought, 
 
 ' IS^othing but sweet and womanly ! 
 F— 70
 
 162 THE AXGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' Her virtues please my Tirtuons mood, 
 ' But what at all times I admire 
 
 ' Is, not that she is wise or good, 
 ' But just the thing which I desire. 
 
 • With versatility to sing 
 
 ' The theme of love to any strain, 
 
 • If oft'nest she is anything, 
 
 ' Be it careless, talkative, and vain. 
 ' That seems in her supremest grace 
 
 • Which, virtue or not, apprises me 
 ' That my familiar thoughts embrace 
 
 ' Unfathomable mystery.' 
 
 I answer'd thus ; for she desired 
 
 To know what mind I most approved ; 
 
 Partly to learn what she inquired, 
 Partly to get the praise she loved. 
 
 3 
 
 I praised her, but no praise could fill 
 
 The depths of her desire to please. 
 Though dull to others as a W^ill 
 
 To them that have no legacies. 
 The more I praised the more she shone. 
 
 Her eyes incredulously bright, 
 And all her happy beauty blown 
 
 Beneath the beams of my delight.
 
 THE KOH-I-NOOR. 163 
 
 Sweet rivalry was tliiis begot ; 
 
 By turns, my speech, in passion's style, 
 With flatteries the truth o'ershot, 
 
 And she surpass'd them with her smile. 
 
 ' You hayo my heart so sweetly seiz'd, 
 
 ' And I confess, nay, 'tis my pride 
 ' That I'm with you so solely pleased, 
 
 ' That, if I'm pleased with aught JDeside, 
 ' As music, or the month of June, 
 
 ' My friend's devotion, or his wit, 
 ' A rose, a rainbow, or the moon, 
 
 ' It is that you illustrate it. 
 ' All these are parts, you are the whole ; 
 
 ' You lit the taste for Paradise, 
 " To which your charms draw up the soul 
 
 ' As turning spirals draw the eyes. 
 ' Xature to you was more than kind ; 
 
 ' 'Twas fond perversity to dress 
 ' So much simplicity of mind 
 
 ' In such a pomp of loveliness ! 
 ' But, ]3raising you, the fancy deft 
 
 ' Flies wide, and lets the quarry stray, 
 ' And, when all's said, there's something left, 
 
 ' And that's the thing I meant to say.'
 
 164 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' Dear Felix ! ' ' Sweet, my Loye I ' But there 
 
 "Was Amit Maude's noisy ring aud kuoek 1 
 ' Stay. Felix ; you have caught my hair. 
 
 ' Stoop I Thank you 1 ' ' May I have that lock ? ' 
 ' Xot now. Good morning, Aunt I ' ' Why, Pus3. 
 
 ' Tou look magnificent to-day.' 
 ' Here's Felix, Aunt.' ' Fox and green goose ! 
 
 ' "Who handsome gets should handsome ^jay I 
 ' Aunt, you are friends ! ' ' Ah, to be sure ! 
 
 ' Grood morniug ! Go on flattering, Sir ; 
 ' A woman, like the Koh-i-noor, 
 
 ' Mounts to the price that's put on her.'
 
 165 
 
 CANTO IX. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 I. 
 
 The Nursling of Civility. 
 
 Lo, how tlie woman once Avas woo'd ; 
 
 Forth leapt the savage from his Lair, 
 And fell'd her, and to nuptials rude 
 
 He dragg'd her, bleeding, by the hair. 
 From that to Chloe's dainty wiles 
 
 And Portia's dignified consent, 
 "What distance ! But these Pagan styles 
 
 How far below Time's fair intent ! 
 Siegfried sued Kriemhild. Sweeter life 
 
 Could Love's self covet ? Yet 'tis sung 
 In what rough sort he chid his wife 
 
 For want of curb upon her tongue ! 
 Shall Love, where last I leave him, halt ? 
 
 Nay ; none can fancy or f orsee 
 To how strange bliss may time exalt 
 
 This nursling of civility.
 
 166 THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Foreign Land. 
 
 A woman is a foreign land, 
 
 Of wliicli, though there he settle young, 
 A man will ne'er quite understand 
 
 The customs, politics, and tongue. 
 The foolish hie them post-haste tlu'ough, 
 
 See fashions odd, and prospects fair. 
 Learn of the language, ' How d'ye do,' 
 
 And go and Ijrag they have been there. 
 The most for leare to trade apply, 
 
 For once, at Empire's seat, her heart. 
 Then get what knowledge ear and eye 
 
 Glean chancewise in the life-long mart. 
 And certain others, few and fit. 
 
 Attach them to the Court, and see 
 The Country's best, its accent hit. 
 
 And partly sound its polity. 
 
 III. 
 
 Bisap'pointment. 
 
 * The bliss which woman's charms bespeak, 
 * IVe sought in many, found in none ! ' 
 
 ' In many 'tis in vain you seek 
 ' "What only can be found in one.'
 
 167 
 
 THE FRIEXDS. 
 
 Frank's long, dull letter, lying by 
 
 The gay sash from Honoria's waist, 
 Reproach'd me ; passion spared a sigh 
 
 For friendship without fault disgraced. 
 How shoidd I greet him ? how pretend 
 
 I felt the love he onee inspired ? 
 Time was when either, in his friend, 
 
 His own deserts with joy admired ; 
 We took one side in school-debate, 
 
 Like hopes pursued with equal thirst, 
 Were even-bracketed by Fate, 
 
 Twin- Wranglers, seventh from the First ; 
 And either loved a lady's laugh 
 
 More than all music ; he and I 
 Were perfect in the pleasant half 
 
 Of universal charity. 
 
 From pride of likeness thus I loved 
 Him, and he me, till love begot 
 
 The lowliness which now approved 
 Nothing but that which I was not.
 
 168 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Blest was the pride of f eeliug so 
 Subjected to a girl's soft reign. 
 
 She was my yanity, and, oh, 
 All other vanities how vain ! 
 
 3 
 
 Frank follow'd in his letter's track, 
 
 And set my guilty heart at ease 
 B}^ echoing my excuses back 
 
 "VYith just the same apologies. 
 So he had slighted me as well ! 
 
 Xor was my mind disburthen'd less 
 "When what I sought excuse to tell 
 
 He of himself did first confess. 
 
 4 
 Each, rapturous, praised his lady's worth 
 
 He eloquently thus : ' Her face 
 ' Is the summ'd sweetness of the earth, 
 
 ' Her soul the glass of heaven's grace, 
 • To which she leads me by the hand ; 
 
 ' Or, briefly all the truth to say 
 ' To you, who briefly understand, 
 
 ' She is both heaven and the way. 
 ' Displeasures and resentments pass 
 
 ' Athwart her charitable eyes 
 ' More fleetingly than breath from glass, 
 
 ' Or truth from foolish memories :
 
 THE FRIENDS. 169 
 
 ' Her heart's so toneli"d with others' woes 
 ' She has uo need o£ chastisement ; 
 
 ' Her gentle life's conditions close, 
 
 ' Like God's commandments, with content, 
 
 * And make an aspect calm and gay, 
 
 ' Wliere sweet affections come and go, 
 
 * Till all who see her, smile and say, 
 
 ' How fair, and happy that she's so I 
 ' She is so lovely, true, and pure, 
 
 ' Her virtue virtue so endears, 
 ' Tliat often, when I think of her, 
 
 ' Life's meanness fills mine eyes with tears — "* 
 ' You paint Miss Churchill ! Pray go on — ' 
 
 ' She's perfect, and, if joy was much 
 
 * To think her nature's j)aragon, 
 
 ' 'Tis more that there's another such I ' 
 
 5 
 
 Praising and paying back their praise 
 
 With rapturous hearts, t'ward Sarum Spire 
 We walk'd, in evening's golden haze, 
 
 Friendship from passion stealing fire. 
 In joy's crown danced the feather jest. 
 
 And, parting by the Deanery door, 
 Clasp'd hands, less shy than words, confess'd 
 
 We had not been true friends before.
 
 170 
 
 CANTO X. 
 
 ^ht (Epttaplj, 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 
 Frost in Harvest. 
 
 The lover wlio, across a giilf 
 
 Of ceremony, views his Love, 
 And dares not yet addi-ess lierself, 
 
 Pays worship to her stolen glove. 
 Tlie gulf o'erleapt. the lover vred, 
 
 It happens oft, (let truth be told), 
 The halo leaves the sacred head, 
 
 Respect grows lax, and worship cold, 
 And all love's May-day promising. 
 
 Like song of birds before they pair, 
 Or Hush of flowers in boastful Spring, 
 
 Dies out, and leaves the Summer bare. 
 Yet should a man, it seems to me, 
 
 Honom* what honourable is. 
 For some more honourable plea 
 
 Than only that it is not his.
 
 PE^BTiTTDES. 171 
 
 The gentle wife, wlio decks his board 
 
 And makes his day to have no night, 
 "Whose wishes wait upon her lord, 
 
 Who finds her own in his delight. 
 Is she another now than she 
 
 Who, mistress of her maiden charms. 
 At his wild prayer, incredibly 
 
 Committed them to his proud arms ? 
 Unless her choice of him's a slur 
 
 Which makes her proper credit dim, 
 He never enough can honour her 
 
 Who past all speech has honour 'd him. 
 
 II. 
 
 Felicitij. 
 
 To marry her and take her home ! 
 
 The poet, painting pureuess, tells 
 Of lilies ; figures power by Rome ; 
 
 And each thing shows by something else. 
 But through the songs of poets look, 
 
 And who so lucky to have found 
 In universal nature's book 
 
 A likeness for a life so crown'd ! 
 Here they speak best who best express 
 
 Their inability to speak, 
 And none are strong, but who confess 
 
 With happy skill that they are weak.
 
 172 THE ANGEL IX THE HOUSE. 
 
 III. 
 
 Marriage Indissoluble. 
 
 * lu lieaven none marry.' Grant tlie most 
 
 Wliich may by this dark word l^e meant, 
 Who shall forbid the eternal boast 
 
 ' I kiss'd, and kiss'd -with her consent ! ' 
 If liere, to Love, past favonr is 
 
 A i)resent boast, delight, and chain, 
 What lacks of honour, bond, and bliss, 
 
 Where Now and Then are no more twain ! 
 
 THE EPITAPH. 
 1 
 
 * At Church, m twelve hours more, we meet ! 
 
 ' This, Dearest, is our last farewell.' 
 ' Oh, Felix, do you love me ? ' ' Sweet, 
 
 ' Why do you ask ? ' 'I cannot tell.' 
 
 And was 'it no vain fantasy 
 
 That raised me from the earth with pride ? 
 Should I to-morrow verily 
 
 Be Bridegroom, and Honoria Bride ?
 
 THE EPITAPH. 173 
 
 Slioulcl I, in simple fact, lieiicefortli 
 
 Live unconditionally lord 
 Of lier whose smile for brightest worth 
 
 Seem'd all too bountiful reward ? 
 Incredible life's promise seem'd, 
 
 Or, credible, for life too great ; 
 Love his own deity blasphemed, 
 
 And doff'd at last his heavenly state. 
 What law, if man could mount so high, 
 
 To further insolence set bars. 
 And ke^Dt the chaste moon in the sky, 
 
 And bade him not tread out the stars I 
 
 Patience and hope had parted truce. 
 
 And, sun-like. Love obscured his ray 
 With dazzling mists, driven up profuse 
 
 Before his own triumphant way. 
 I thought with prayer how Jacob paid 
 
 The patient i^rice of Rachel ; then, 
 Of that calm grace Tobias said, 
 
 And Sarah's innocent ' Amen.' 
 Without avail ! O'erwhelming wealth, 
 
 The wondrous gift of God so near, 
 Which should have been delight and healtli 
 
 Made heart and spirit sick and sere.
 
 174 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Until at last the soul of love, 
 
 Tliat recks not of its own delight, 
 Awoke and bade the mists remove. 
 
 And then once more I breathed ariglit ; 
 And I rehears'd my marriage vow, 
 
 And swore her welfare to prefer 
 To all things, and for aye as now 
 
 To live, not for myself, but her. 
 Forth, from the glittering spirit's peace 
 
 And gaiety ineffable, 
 Stream'd to the heart delight and ease, 
 
 As from an overflowing well ; 
 And, orderly deriving thence 
 
 Its pleasure perfect and allow'd. 
 Bright with the spirit shone the sense, 
 
 As with the sun a fleecy cloud. 
 If now to part with her could make 
 
 Her pleasure greater, sorrow less, 
 I for my epitaph would take 
 
 ' To serve seem'd more than to possess.' 
 And I perceiv'd, (the vision sweet 
 
 Dimming with happy dew mine eyes), 
 That love r.nd joy are torches lit 
 
 From altar-fires of sacrifice.
 
 THE EPITAPH. 175 
 
 Across the sky the daylight crept, 
 
 And birds grew garrulous in the grove, 
 
 And on my marriage-morn I slept 
 A soft sleep, undisturb'd by love.
 
 176 
 
 CANTO XI. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 Platonic Love. 
 
 Right art thou who wouldst rather be 
 
 A doorkeeper in Love's fair house, 
 Thau lead the wi-etched revelry 
 
 "Where fools at swinish troughs carouse. 
 But do not boast of being least ; 
 
 And if to kiss thy Mistress' skirt 
 Amaze thy brain, scorn not the Priest 
 
 "Whom greater honours do not liurt. 
 Stand off and gaze, if more than this 
 
 Be more than thou canst understand. 
 Revering him whose power of bliss, 
 
 Angelic, dares to seize her hand. 
 Or whose seraphic love makes flight 
 
 To the apprehension of her lips ; 
 And think, the sun of such delight 
 
 From thine own darkness takes eclipse.
 
 PEELUDES. ]77 
 
 And, woiildst thou to the same aspire, 
 This is the art thou must employ, 
 
 LiA'e greatly ; so shalt thou acquire 
 Unknown capacities of joy. 
 
 II. 
 
 A Demonstration. 
 
 Nature, with endless being rife, 
 
 Parts each thing into ' him' and ' her,' 
 And, in the arithmetic of life, 
 
 The smallest unit is a pair ; 
 And thus, oh, strange, sweet half of me, 
 
 If I confess a loftier flame, 
 If more I love liigh Heaven than thee, 
 
 I more than love thee, thee I am ; 
 And, if the world's not built of lies, 
 
 Nor all a cheat the Gospel tells. 
 If that which from the dead shall rise 
 
 Be I indeed, not something else, 
 There's no position more secure 
 
 In reason or in faith than this, 
 Tliat those conditions must endure. 
 
 Which, wanting, I myself should miss.
 
 178 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 III. 
 
 The Sijmhol. 
 
 As if I cliaf ed tlie sparks from glass, 
 
 And said, ' It liglitens,' hitherto 
 The songs I've made of lore may pass 
 
 For all but for proportion true ; 
 But likeness and proportion Tjotli 
 
 Xow fail, as if a child in glee. 
 Catching the flakes of the salt froth, 
 
 Cried, ' Look, my mother, here's the sea. 
 Tet, by the help of what's so weak. 
 
 But not diverse, to those wlio know, 
 And only unto those I speak, 
 
 May far-inferring fancy show 
 Love's living sea by coasts uncurb'd. 
 
 Its depth, its mystery, and its might. 
 Its indignation if disturb'd. 
 
 The glittering peace of its delight. 
 
 lY. 
 
 Constancy rewarded. 
 
 I vow'd unvarying faith, and she. 
 To whom in full I pay that vow, 
 
 Rewards me with variety 
 
 Which men who change can never know.
 
 179 
 
 THE WEDDING. 
 1 
 Life smitten with a feverish chill, 
 
 The brain too tired to understand, 
 In apathy of heart and will, 
 
 I took the woman from the hand 
 Of him who stood for God, and heard 
 
 Of Christ, and of the Chnreh his Bride ; 
 The Feast, by presence of the Lord 
 
 And his first Wonder, beautified ; 
 The mystic sense to Christian men ; 
 
 The bonds in innocency made, 
 And gravely to be enter'd then, 
 
 For children, godliness, and aid. 
 And honour'd, and kept free from smirch ; 
 
 And how a man must love his wife 
 No less than Christ did love his Church, 
 
 If need be, giving her his life ; 
 And, vowing then the mutual vow. 
 
 The tongue spoke, but intention slept. 
 'Tis well for us HeaA^en asks not how 
 
 We take this oath, but how 'tis kept. 
 
 O, bold seal of a bashful bond, 
 
 Which makes the marriage-day to be^ 
 
 To those before it ana beyono. 
 An iceberg in an Indian sea ! 
 
 L
 
 ISO THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 ' Xow, while she's changing,' said the Dean, 
 
 ' Her bridal for her travelling dress, 
 ' I'll preach allegiance to your queen ! 
 
 • Preaching's the thing which I profess ; 
 
 ' And one more minute's mine ! Tou know 
 ' I've paid my girl a father's debt, 
 
 • And this last charge is all I owe. 
 
 ' She's yours ; but I love more than yet 
 ' You can ; such fondness only wakes 
 ' When time has raised the heart above 
 
 • The prejudice of youth, which makes 
 
 ' Beauty conditional to love. 
 ' Prepare to meet the weak alarms 
 
 ' Of novel nearness ; recollect 
 ' The eye which magnified her charms 
 
 ' Is microscopic for defect. 
 ' Fear comes at fii'st ; but soon, rejoiced, 
 
 ' You'll find your strong and tender loves, 
 ^ Like holy rocks -by Druids poised, 
 
 ' The least force shakes, but none removes. 
 ' Her strength is your esteem ; beware 
 
 ' Of finding fault ; her will's unnerv'd 
 
 • By blame ; from you 'twould be despair ; 
 
 • But jDraise that is not quite deserv'd
 
 THE WEDDING. 181 
 
 * Will all her noble nature move 
 
 ' To make jonr utmost wishes true. 
 ' Yet think, while mending tlms youi* Love,, 
 
 ' Of matching her ideal too. 
 ' The death of nuptial joy is sloth : , 
 
 ' To keep your mistress in your wife. I 
 Keep to the very height your oath, ' 
 
 ' And honour her with arduous life. j 
 ' Lastly, no personal reverence doff. I 
 
 ' Life's all externals unto those 
 ' Who pluck the blushing petals off, 
 
 ' To find the secret of the rose. — 
 
 * How long she's tarrying ! Green's Hotel 
 
 ' I'm sure you'll like. The charge is fair, 
 ' The wines good. I remember well 
 ' I stay'd once, with her Mother, there. 
 
 * A tender conscience of her vow 
 
 ' That Mother had ! She's so like her ! ' 
 But Mrs. Fife, much flurried, now 
 Whisper'd, ' Miss Honor's ready. Sir.' 
 
 Whirl'd off at last, for speech I sought, 
 To keep shy Love in countenance. 
 
 But, whilst I vainly tax'd my thought, 
 Her voice deliver'd mine from trance :
 
 182 THE ANGEL IN THE HOTTSE. 
 
 * Look, is not this a pretty shawl, 
 
 ' Aunt's parting gift.' ' She's always kind. 
 
 * The new wing spoils Sir John's old Hall : 
 
 ' You'll see it, if you pull the blind.' 
 
 5 
 
 I drew the silk : in heaven the night 
 Was dawning ; lovely Yenus shone. 
 
 In languishment of tearful light, 
 
 Swathed by the red breath of the sun.
 
 183 
 
 CANTO XII. 
 
 PRELUDES. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Married Lover. 
 
 Why, having won lier, do I woo ? 
 
 Because her sj)i]-it's vestal grace 
 Provokes me always to pursue, 
 
 But, spirit-like, eludes embrace ; 
 Because her womanhood is such 
 
 That, as on court-days subjects kiss 
 The Queen's hand, yet so near a touch 
 
 Affirms no mean familiarnoss, 
 Nay, rather marks more fair the height 
 
 Which can with safety so neglect 
 To dread, as lower ladies miglit. 
 
 That grace could meet with disrespect, 
 Thus she with happy favour feeds 
 
 Allegiance from a love so high 
 That thence no false conceit proceeds 
 
 Of difference bridged, or state put by ;
 
 18-i THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Because, although in act aud word 
 
 As lowly as a wife can be, 
 Her inanners, when they call'ine lord, 
 
 Remind me 'tis by courtesy ; 
 Not with her least consent of will, 
 
 Which would my proud affection hurt, 
 But by the noble style that still 
 
 Imputes an imattain'd desert ; 
 Because her gay and lofty brows, 
 
 When all is won which hope can ask. 
 Reflect a light of hopeless snows 
 
 That bright in virgin ether bask ; 
 Because, though free of the outer court 
 
 I am, this Temple keeps its shrine 
 Sacred to Heaven ; because, in short, 
 
 She's not and never can be mine. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Amaranth. 
 
 Feasts satiate ; stars distress with height ; 
 
 Friendship means well, but misses reach. 
 And wearies in its best delight, 
 
 Yex'd with the vanities of speech ; 
 Too long regarded, roses even 
 
 Afflict the mind with fond unrest ; 
 And to converse direct with Heaven 
 
 Is oft a labour in the breast ;
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 18' 
 
 Whate'er the up-looking soul admires, 
 
 Wliate'er the senses' banquet be, 
 Fatigues at last with vain desires. 
 
 Or sickens by satiety; 
 But truly my delight was more 
 
 In her to whom I'm bound for aye 
 Yesterday than the day before 
 
 And more to-day than yesterday. 
 
 HUSBAND AK"D WIPE. 
 1 
 
 I, while the shox^-girl fitted on 
 
 The sand-shoes, look'd where, down the bay, 
 The sea glow'd with a shrouded sun, 
 
 ' I'm ready, Felix ; will you pay ? ' 
 That was m)-- first expense for this 
 
 Sweet Stranger, now my three days' Wife. 
 How light the touches are that kiss 
 
 The music from the chords of life ! 
 
 Her feet, by haif-a-mile of sea, 
 In spotless sand left shapely print; 
 
 With agates, then, she loaded me ; 
 (The lapidary call'd them flints) ;
 
 186 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Then, at Ler wish, I hail'd a boat, 
 
 To take her to the sliips-of-war, 
 At anchor, each a lazy mote 
 
 Black in the brilliance, miles from shore. 
 
 3 
 
 The morning breeze the canvas fiU'd, 
 
 Lifting ns o'er the bright-ridged gull. 
 And every lurch my darling thrill'd 
 
 With light fear smiling at itself ; 
 And, dashing past the Ai-rogant, 
 
 Asleep upon the restless wave 
 After its cruise in the Levant, 
 
 We reach'd the WoK, and signal gave 
 For help to board ; with caution meet, 
 
 My bride was placed within the chair, 
 The red flag wrapxr d about her feet, 
 
 And so swung laughing through the air. 
 
 4 
 ' Look, Love,' she said, ' there's Frederick 
 Graham, 
 
 ' My cousin, whom you met, you know.' 
 And seeing us, the brave man came, 
 
 And made his frank and courteous bow. 
 And gave my hand a sailor's shake, 
 
 And said, ' You ask'd me to the Hurst : 
 * I never thought my luck would make 
 
 ' Your wife and vou mv 2:uests the fii'st.'
 
 HUSBAND AND WIFE. 187 
 
 And Houor, cruel, ' Xor did we : 
 
 ' Have yon not lately changed your ship P ' 
 * Yes : I'm Comniaudei?, now,' said he, 
 
 Witli a slight quirer of the lip. 
 We saw the vessel, shown with pride ; 
 
 Took luncheon ; I must eat his salt ! 
 Parting he said, (I fear my bride 
 
 Found him unselfish to a fault), 
 His wish, he saw, had come to pass, 
 
 (And so, indeed, her face express'd), 
 That that should be, whatever 'twas, 
 
 "Which made his Cousin happiest. 
 We left him looking from above ; 
 
 Rich bankrupt ! for he could afford 
 To say most proudly that his love 
 
 Was virtue and its own reward. 
 But others loved as well as he, 
 
 (Thought I, half-anger'd), and if fate, 
 Unfair, had only fashion'd me 
 
 As hapless, I had been as great. 
 
 As souls, ambitious, but low-born, 
 If raised past hope by luck or wit. 
 
 All pride of place will proudly scorn, 
 And live as they'd been used to it,
 
 188 THE AXGEL'IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 So "we two wore our strange estate : 
 
 Familiar, unaffected, free, 
 We talk'd, until the dusk grew late, 
 
 Of tliis and that ; but, after tea, 
 As doubtful if a lot so sweet 
 
 As ours was ours in very sooth, 
 Like children, to promote conceit. 
 
 We f eign'd that it was not the truth ; 
 And she assumed the maiden cot, 
 
 And I adored remorseless charms, 
 And then we clapp'd our hands for joy, 
 
 And ran into each other's arms.
 
 189 
 
 THE EPILOGUE. 
 
 I 
 
 * Ah. dearest Wife, a f resli-lit fire 
 
 ' Seucis fortli to heaven great shows of fume, 
 
 * And watchers, far away, admire ; 
 
 ' But when the flames their power assume, 
 ' The more they burn the less they show, 
 
 ' The clouds no longer smirch the sky, 
 ' And then the flames intensest glow 
 
 ' When far-off watchers think they die. 
 ' The fumes of early love my verse 
 
 ' Has figured — ' ' You must paint the flame ! ' 
 ' 'Twould merit the Promethean curse ! 
 
 ' But now, Sweet, for your praise and blame.' 
 ' You speak too boldly ; veils are due 
 
 ' To women's feelings.' Tear not this I 
 ' Women will vow I say not true, 
 
 ' And men believe the lips they kiss.' 
 ' I did not call you " Dear" or *' Love," 
 
 'I think, till after Frank was born.' 
 
 * That fault I cannot well remove ; 
 
 ' The rhymes ' — but Frank now blew his horn. 
 And Walter bark'd, on hands and knees, 
 
 At Baby in the mignonette, 
 And all made, full-cry, for the trees 
 
 Where Felix and his Wife were set.
 
 190 THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE. 
 
 Again disturb'd, (crickets liare cares !) 
 True to tlieir annual use tliey rose. 
 
 To offer thanks at Evening Prayers 
 In tliree times sacred Sarum Close. 
 
 Passing, they left a gift of wine 
 
 At TTidow Xeale's. Her daughter said : 
 ' O, Ma'am, she's sinking ! For a sign, 
 
 ' She cried just now, of him that's dead, 
 * " Maiy, he's somewhere close above, 
 
 ' " Weeping and wailing his dead wif e» 
 ' " With forceful prayers and fatal love 
 
 ' " Conjuring me to come to life. 
 ' •• A spirit is terrible though dear ! 
 
 ' " It comes by night, and sucks my breath, 
 ' " And draws me with desire and fear." 
 
 ' Ah, Ma'am, she'll soon be his in death ! ' 
 
 Yaughan, when liis kind Wife's eyes were dry, 
 Said, ' This thought crosses me. my Dove ; 
 
 ' If Heaven should proffer, wlien we die. 
 ' Some unconceiv'd, superior love,
 
 THE EPILOGUE. 191 
 
 'How take the excliauge without despair, 
 
 ' Without worse folly how refuse ? ' 
 But she, who, wise as she was fair, 
 
 For subtle doubts had simple clues, 
 Said, ' Custom sauctifies, and faith 
 
 ' Is more thau joy : ah, how desire 
 ' In any heaven a different path, 
 
 ' Though, found at first, it had been higher ? 
 ' Tet love makes death a dreadful thought ! 
 
 ' Felix, at Avhat a price we live ! ' 
 But present pleasures soon forgot 
 
 The future's dread alternative ; 
 For, as became the festal time, 
 
 He cheer'd her heart with tender praise. 
 And speeches wanting only rhyme 
 
 To make them like his winged lays. 
 He discommended girlhood. ' "What 
 
 ' For sweetness like the ten-years' wife, 
 ' Whose customary love is not 
 
 ' Her passion, or her play, but life ? 
 ' With l^eauties so maturely fair, 
 
 ' Affecting, mild, and manifold, 
 ' May girlish charms no more compare 
 
 ' Than apples green with apples gold. 
 Ah, still unpraised Honoria, Heaven, 
 
 ' When you into my arms it gave, 
 ' Left nought hereafter to be given 
 
 ' But grace to feel the good I have.'
 
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