With a gilt glove on his hand, and his foot

In a silken shoe for a leather boot,

Petticoated like a herald,

In a chamber next to an ante-room,

Where he breathed the breath of page and groom,
What he called stink, and they, perfume.
-They should have set him on red Berold,
Mad with pride, like fire to manage !
They should have got his cheek fresh tannage
Such a day as to-day in the merry sunshine!
Had they stuck on his fist a rough-foot merlin!
(Hark, the wind's on the heath at its game!
Oh for a noble falcon-lanner

To flap each broad wing like a banner,

And turn in the wind, and dance like flame!)
Had they broached a cask of white beer from Berlin!
-Or if you incline to prescribe mere wine
Put to his lips when they saw him pine,
A cup of our own Moldavia fine,

Cotnar, for instance, green as May sorrel,
And ropy with sweet—we shall not quarrel.

IV.

So, at home, the sick tall yellow duchess
Was left with the infant in her clutches,
She being the daughter of God knows who:
And now was the time to revisit her tribe,
So, abroad and afar they went, the two,
And let our people rail and gibe
At the empty hall and extinguished fire,
As loud as we liked, but ever in vain,
Till after long years we had our desire,

And back came the duke and his mother again.

V.

And he came back the pertest little ape
That ever affronted human shape;
Full of his travel, struck at himself.
You'd say, he despised our bluff old ways
-Not he! For in Paris they told the elf
That our rough north land was the Land of Lays,
The one good thing left in evil days;

Since the mid-age was the heroic time,
And only in wild nooks like ours

Could you taste of it yet as in its prime,
And see true castles with proper towers,
Young-hearted women, old-minded men,
And manners now as manners were then.

So, all that the old dukes had been, without knowing it, This duke would fain know he was, without being it ; 'Twas not for the joy's self, but the joy of his showing it,

Nor for the pride's self, but the pride of our seeing it, He revived all usages thoroughly worn out,

The souls of them fumed-forth, the hearts of them torn-out.

And chief in the chase his neck he perilled,

On a lathy horse, all legs and length,
With blood for bone, all speed, no strength.
-They should have set him on red Berold,
With the red eye slow consuming in fire,
And the thin stiff ear like an abbey spire!

VI.

Well, such as he was, he must marry, we heard
And out of a convent, at the word,

Came the lady, in time of spring.

-Oh, old thoughts they cling, they cling!
That day, I know, with a dozen oaths
I clad myself in thick hunting-clothes
Fit for the chase of urox or buffle

In winter-time when you need to muffle.

But the duke had a mind we should cut a figure,
And so we saw the lady arrive :

My friend, I have seen a white crane bigger!
She was the smallest lady alive,

Made, in a piece of Nature's madness,

Too small, almost, for the life and gladness

That over-filled her, as some hive

Out of the bears' reach on the high trees

Is crowded with its safe merry bees.

In truth, she was not hard to please!

Up she looked, down she looked, round at the mead, Straight at the castle, that's best indeed

To look at from outside the walls :

As for us, styled the "serfs and thralls,"

She as much thanked me as if she had said it,

(With her eyes, do you understand?)

Because I patted her horse while I led it ;

And Max, who rode on her other hand,

Said, no bird flew past but she inquired

What its true name was, nor ever seemed tired

If that was an eagle she saw hover,

If the green and gray bird on the field was the plover.

When suddenly appeared the duke:

And as down she sprung, the small foot pointed

On to my hand—as with a rebuke,

And as if his back-bone were not jointed,

The duke stepped rather aside than forward,

And welcomed her with his grandest smile;
And, mind you, his mother all the while

Chilled in the rear,
like a wind to nor❜ward;
And up, like a weary yawn, with its pullies
Went, in a shriek, the rusty portcullis.
And like a glad sky the north wind sullies,
The lady's face stopped its play,

As if her first hair had grown grey-
For such things must begin some one day!

VII.

In a day or two she was well again;
As who should say, "You labour in vain!
This is all a jest against God, who meant
I should ever be, as I am, content

And glad in His sight; therefore, glad I will be ! "
So, smiling as at first went she.

VIII.

She was active, stirring, all fire

Could not rest, could not tire

To a stone she might have given life!

(I myself loved once, in my day)

-For a shepherd's, miner's, huntsman's wife,

(I had a wife, I know what I say) Never in all the world such an one!

And here was plenty to be done,

And she that could do it, great or small,

She was to do nothing at all.

There was already this man in his post,

This in his station, and that in his office,
And the duke's scheme admitted a wife, at most,
To meet his eye, with the other trophies,

Now outside the hall, now in it,

To sit thus, stand thus, see and be seen,
At the proper place in the proper minute,
And die away the life between.

And it was amusing enough, each infraction
Of rule (but for after-sadness that came)——
To hear the consummate self-satisfaction
With which the young duke and the old dame
Would let her advise, and criticise,

And, being a fool, instruct the wise,

And, child-like, parcel out praise or blame.
They bore it all in complacent guise,

As tho' an artificer, after contriving

A wheel-work image as if it were living,

Should find with delight it could motion to strike him! So found the duke, and his mother like him :

The lady hardly got a rebuff—

That had not been contemptuous enough,
With his cursed smirk, as he nodded applause,
And kept off the old mother-cat's claws.

IX.

So, the little lady grew silent and thin,
Paling and ever paling,

As the way is with a hid chagrin ;

And the duke perceived that she was ailing, And said in his heart, ""Tis done to spite me, But I shall find in my power to right me!" Don't swear, friend-the old one, many a year, Is in hell, and the duke's self... you shall hear.