In Walter there is thought—a soul In Percy and in Frederick, both, A martial tone and fire! From Robert and bold Alan springs A bard-loved, minstrel sound; And Clement, Lawrence, Horace, all Though Martin cannot boast of much, But Francis is too girlish; Yet perhaps the worst of all men's names ANONYMOUS. MAUD MULLER. MAUD MULLER, on a summer's day, Beneath her torn hat glowed the wealth Singing, she wrought, and her merry glee But, when she glanced to the far-off town, The sweet song died, and a vague unrest A wish, that she hardly dared to own, The Judge rode slowly down the lane, He drew his bridle in the shade Of the apple-trees, to greet the maid, And ask a draught from the spring that flowed Through the meadow across the road. She stooped where the cool spring bubbled up, And filled for him her small tin cup, And blushed as she gave it, looking down "Thanks!" said the Judge, "a sweeter draught From a fairer hand was never quaffed." He spoke of the grass, and flowers, and trees, Of the singing birds and the humming bees; S Then talked of the haying, and wondered whether The cloud in the west would bring foul weather. And Maud forgot her brier-torn gown, And listened, while a pleased surprise At last, like one who for delay Maud Muller looked and sighed : Ah, me! "He would dress me up in silks so fine, And praise and toast me at his wine. 66 My father should wear a broad-cloth coat; My brother should sail a painted boat. "I'd dress my mother so grand and gay, "And I 'd feed the hungry and clothe the poor, And all should bless me who left our door." The Judge looked back as he climbed the hill, "A form more fair, a face more sweet, Ne'er hath it been my lot to meet. "And her modest answer and graceful air Show her wise and good as she is fair. "Would she were mine, and I to-day, Like her, a harvester of hay: "No doubtful balance of rights and wrongs, Nor weary lawyers with endless tongues, "But low of cattle and song of birds, And health and quiet and loving words." But he thought of his sisters, proud and cold, And his mother vain of her rank and gold. So, closing his heart, the Judge rode on, But the lawyers smiled that afternoon, And the young girl mused beside the well, He wedded a wife of richest dower, Yet oft, in his marble hearth's bright glow, And sweet Maud Muller's hazel eyes Oft when the wine in his glass was red, And closed his eyes on his garnished rooms, And the proud man sighed, with a secret pain: "Ah, that I were free again! "Free as when I rode that day, Where the barefoot maiden raked her hay." She wedded a man unlearned and poor, But care and sorrow, and child-birth pain, And oft, when the summer sun shone hot And she heard the little spring-brook fall In the shade of the apple-tree again And, gazing down with timid grace, Sometimes her narrow kitchen walls |