LOVE IN IDLENESS.

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.’

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!

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.

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.

Ah, that sweet laugh! Diviner sense

Did Nature, forming her, inspire

To omit the grosser elements,

And make her all of air and fire!

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.