Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/102

So save you! for the world . . and Carrington.’
‘(Writ after.) Have you heard of Romney Leigh,
Beyond what’s said of him in newspapers,
His phalansteries there, his speeches here,
His pamphlets, pleas, and statements, everywhere?
He dropped me long ago; but no one drops
A golden apple—though, indeed, one day,
You hinted that, but jested. Well, at least,
You know Lord Howe, who sees him . . whom he sees,
And you see, and I hate to see,—for Howe
Stands high upon the brink of theories,
Observes the swimmers, and cries ‘Very fine,’
But keeps dry linen equally,—unlike
That gallant breaster, Romney. Strange it is,
Such sudden madness, seizing a young man,
To make earth over again,—while I’m content
To make the pictures. Let me bring the sketch.
A tiptoe Danae, overbold and hot;
Both arms a-flame to meet her wishing Jove
Halfway, and burn him faster down; the face
And breasts upturned and straining; the loose locks
All glowing with the anticipated gold.
Or here’s another on the self-same theme.
She lies here—flat upon her prison-floor,
The long hair swathed about her to the heel,
Like wet sea-weed. You dimly see her through
The glittering haze of that prodigious rain,
Half blotted out of nature by a love
As heavy as fate. I’ll bring you either sketch.

I think, myself, the second indicates