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Just a good man, made a proud man,—as the sandy rocks that border
A wild coast, by circumstances, in a regnant ebb and flow.

Thus, I knew that voice—I heard it—and I could not help the hearkening:
In the room I stood up blindly, and my burning heart within
Seemed to seethe and fuse my senses, till they ran on all sides, darkening,
And scorched, weighed, like melted metal, round my feet that stood therein.

And that voice, I heard it pleading, for love's sake—for wealth, position, . . .
For the sake of liberal uses, and great actions to be done—
And she answered, answered gently—"Nay, my lord, the old tradition
Of your Normans, by some worthier hand than mine is, should be won."

"Ah, that white hand!" he said quickly,—and in his he either drew it,
Or attempted—for with gravity and instance she replied—
"Nay, indeed, my lord, this talk is vain, and we had best eschew it,
And pass on, like friends, to other points, less easy to decide."

What he said again, I know not. It is likely that his trouble
Worked his pride up to the surface, for she answered in slow scorn—
"And your lordship judges rightly. Whom I marry, shall be noble,
Ay, and wealthy. I shall never blush to think how he was born."

There, I maddened! her words stung me! Life swept through me into fever,
And my soul sprang up astonished; sprang, full-statured in an hour!