feasting: we may pray afterward: tomorrow we shall rest. GODIVA. No judgements then tomorrow, Leofric? LEOFRIC. None: we will carouse. GODIVA. The saints of heaven have given me strength and confidence: my prayers are heard: the heart of my beloved is now softened. Ay, ay. LEOFRIC. GODIVA. Say, dearest Leofric, is there indeed no other hope, no other mediation ? LEOFRIC. I have sworn. Besides, thou hast made me redden and turn my face away from thee, and all these knaves have seen it. This adds to the city's crime. GODIVA. I have blushed too, Leofric, and was not rash nor cruel. LEOFRIC. But thou, my sweetest, art given to blushing; there is no conquering it in thee. I wish thou hadst not alighted so hastily and roughly: it hath shaken down a sheaf of thy hair: take heed not to sit upon it, lest it anguish thee. Well done! it mingleth now sweetly with the cloth of gold upon the saddle, running here and there, as if it had life and faculties and business, and were working therupon some newer and cunninger device. O my beauteous Eve! there is a paradise about thee! the world is refreshed as thou movest and breathest on it.. I cannot see or think of evil where thou art. I could throw my arms even here about thee,.. no signs for me! no shaking of sunbeams! no reproof or frown or wonderment... I will say it ... now then for worse... I could close with my kisses thy halfopen lips, ay, and those lovely and loving eyes, before the people. GODIVA. Tomorrow you shall kiss me, and they shall bless you for it. I shall be very pale, for tonight I must fast and pray. LEOFRIC. I do not hear thee; the voices of the folks are so loud under this archway. GODIVA (to herself). God help them! good kind souls! I hope they will not crowd about me so tomorrow. O Leofric! could my name be forgotten! and yours alone remembered! But perhaps my innocence may save me from reproach! and how many as innocent are in fear and famine! No eye will open on me but fresh from tears. What a young mother for so large a family! Under God's hand Shall my youth Shall my youth harm me! it gives me courage. Ah, when will the morning come! ah when will the noon be over! This Conversation was suggested by the Indicator; an excellent book, stored with sound criticisms, and what are better still, with manly, just, and generous reflexions. The story of Godiva, at one of whose festivals or fairs I was present in my boyhood, has always much interested me; and I wrote a poem on it, sitting, I remember, by the square pool at Rugby. When I shewed it to the friend in whom I had most confidence, he began to scoff at the subject; and on his reaching the last line, his laughter was loud and immoderate. The Indicator has brought both laughter and stanza back to me, and the earnestness with which I entreated and implored my friend not to tell the lads; so heartstrickenly and desperately was I ashamed. The verses are these, if any one else should wish another laugh at me. In every hour, in every mood, O lady, it is sweet and good To bathe the soul in prayer, And, at the close of such a day, When we have ceased to bless and pray, To dream on thy long hair. May the peppermint be still growing on the bank in that place! |