The Angel in the House
‘And you may talk of it with her.’
A light gleam’d 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!’
CANTO III.
The Country Ball.
PRELUDES.
I.
_Love Ceremonious_.
KEEP your undrest, familiar style
For strangers, but respect your friend,
Her most, whose matrimonial smile
Is and asks honour without end.
’Tis found, and needs it must so be,
That life from love’s allegiance flags,
When love forgets his majesty
In sloth’s unceremonious rags.
Let love make home a gracious Court;
There let the world’s rude, hasty ways
Be fashion’d to a loftier port,
And learn to bow and stand at gaze;
And let the sweet respective sphere
Of personal worship there obtain
Circumference for moving clear,
None treading on another’s train.
This makes that pleasures do not cloy,
And dignifies our mortal strife
With calmness and considerate joy,
Befitting our immortal life.
II.
_The Rainbow_.
A stately rainbow came and stood,
When I was young, in High-Hurst Park;
Its bright feet lit the hill and wood
Beyond, and cloud and sward were dark;
And I, who thought the splendour ours
Because the place was, t’wards it flew,
And there, amidst the glittering showers,
Gazed vainly for the glorious view.
With whatsoever’s lovely, know
It is not ours; stand off to see,
Or beauty’s apparition so
Puts on invisibility.
III.
_A Paradox_.
To tryst Love blindfold goes, for fear
He should not see, and eyeless night
He chooses still for breathing near
Beauty, that lives but in the sight.
THE COUNTY BALL.
1
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 colouring in her talk,
When cheeks and merry mouth would show
Three roses on a single stalk,
The middle wanting room to blow,
And forward ways, that charm’d the boy
Whose love-sick mind, misreading fate,
Scarce hoped that any Queen of Joy
Could ever stoop to be his mate.
2
But there danced she, who from the leaven
Of ill preserv’d my heart and wit
All unawares, for she was heaven,
Others at best but fit for it.
One of those lovely things she was
In whose least action there can be
Nothing so transient but it has
An air of immortality.
I mark’d her step, with peace elate,
Her brow more beautiful than morn,
Her sometime look of girlish state
Which sweetly waived its right to scorn;
The giddy crowd, she grave the while,
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!
3
Whilst so her beauty fed my sight,
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,
Not as were many, but with grace
And fortune of well-nurtured youth,
And days no sordid pains defile,
And thoughts accustom’d to the truth,
Made capable of her fair smile?
4
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 the Kriemhilds and Isondes
You storm’d about at Trinity!
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
Attack’d mine eyes. By pale and park
I rode, and ever seem’d to see,
In the transparent starry dark,
That splendid brow of chastity,
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.
CANTO IV.
Love in Idleness.
PRELUDES.
I.
_Honour and Desert_.
O QUEEN, 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 had grasp’d the hero’s sword,
The vilest had been great, hadst thou,
Just to thyself, been worth’s reward.
But lofty honours undersold
Seller and buyer both disgrace;
And favours that make folly bold
Banish the light 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 that the element
And inmost warmth of love’s delight
Is honour? Who’d not rather kiss
A duchess than a milkmaid, prank
The two in equal grace, which is
Precedent Nature’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.
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 IN IDLENESS.
1
What should I do? In such a wife
Fortune had lavish’d all her store,
And nothing now seem’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 fulfill your hope
Only as you fulfil your vow.’
2
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;
But loftier work did love impose.
And studious hours. Alas, for these,
While she from all my thoughts arose
Like Venus from the restless seas!
3
I conn’d a scheme, within 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’erwhelming honour paid,
Or recognised, at least, in life,
Which this most sweet and noble Maid
Should yield to him who call’d her Wife.
4
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 will
To earn the Statesman’s proud applause.
And now, forthwith, to mend my skill
In ethics, politics, and laws,
The Statesman’s learning! Flush’d with power
And pride of freshly-form’d resolve,
I read Helvetius half-an-hour;
But, halting 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,
With faith unpropp’d by precedent,
Began to play rebellious parts.
O, mighty stir that little meant!
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 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—’
And here I stopp’d in sheer despair;
But, what to-day was thus begun,
I vow’d, up starting from my chair,
To-morrow should indeed be done;
So loosed my chafing thoughts from school,
To play with fancy as they chose,
And then, according to my rule,
I dress’d, and came to Sarum Close.
5
Ah, that sweet laugh! Diviner sense
Did Nature, 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 prize,
(And then he’s Hercules), above
All other contrarieties
Is labour contrary to love.
No fault of Love’s, but nature’s laws!
And Love, in idleness, lies quick;
For as the worm whose powers make pause,
And swoon, through alteration sick,
The soul, its wingless state dissolved,
Awaits its nuptial life complete,
All indolently self-convolved,
Cocoon’d in silken fancies sweet.
CANTO V.
The Queen’s Room.
PRELUDES.
I.
_Rejected_.
‘PERHAPS she’s dancing 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 most deject;
He impudently feigns her charms,
So reverenced in his own respect,
Dreadfully clasp’d by other arms;
And turns, and puts his brows, that ache,
Against the pillow where ’tis cold.
If, only now his heart would break!
But, oh, how much a heart can hold.
II.
_Rachel_.
You loved her, and would lie all night
Thinking how beautiful she was,