Yet when Lorenzo touch'd her on the shoulder, "Lorenzo!"-" Ellen !"-then came "Sir!" and "Madam !" They tried to speak, but hammer'd at each word, As if it were a flint for great Mac Adam; "Ellen! I'm come-to bid you-fare-farewell" For so they split their words like grits for gruel. "There-take it, Madam-take it back I crave, Your art has last enticed into your fetter- Send them to South-or Children-you had better- To shine in Philosophical Transactions! "Take them-pray take them-I resign them quite! I should have led you,---by your leave and pardon— "And here's the birth-day ring-nor man nor devil Should once have torn it from my living hand, Perchance 'twill look as well on Mr. Neville; And that-and that is all-and now I stand Absolved of each dissever'd tie and bandAnd so farewell, till Time's eternal sickle Shall reap our lives; in this, or foreign land Some other may be found for truth to stickle Almost as fair-and not so false and fickle!" And there he ceased: as truly it was time, She knew no more than the old Hill of Howth About that "Children of a larger growth," Who notes proceedings of the F. R. S.'s; Kit North, was just as strange to her as South, Except the south the weathercock expresses, Nay, Bartley's Orrery defied her guesses. Howbeit some notion of his jealous drift I, false!-unjust Lorenzo !-and to you! So long as this poor throbbing heart is mine- True as the tide to 'yonder blessed moon'!" And as she spoke, she pointed through the window, Somewhere above the houses' distant tops, Betwixt the chimney-pots of Mrs. Lindo, And Todd and Sturch's cheapest of all shops For ribbons, laces, muslins, silks, and fops ;Meanwhile, as she upraised her face so Greciau, And eyes suffused with scintillating drops, Lorenzo looked, too, o'er the blinds venetian, To see the sphere so troubled with repletion. "The Moon!" he cried, and an electric spasm Seem'd all at once his features to distort, And fix'd his mouth, a dumb and gaping chasm— His faculties benumb'd and all amort At last his voice came, of most shrilly sort, Just like a sea-gull's wheeling round a rock 'Speak!-Ellen!-is your sight indeed so short! The Moon!-Brute! savage that I am, and block! The Moon! (O, ye Romantics, what a shock!) Why that's the new Illuminated Clock!" |