From the other barrel, tired of springeing game So long upon my acres, undisturbed, And restless for the country’s virtue, (yet He missed me)—ay, and pelted very oft In riding through the village. ‘There he goes, Who’d drive away our Christian gentlefolks, To catch us undefended in the trap He baits with poisonous cheese, and lock us up In that pernicious prison of Leigh Hall With all his murderers! Give another name, And say Leigh Hell, and burn it up with fire.’ And so they did, at last, Aurora.’ ‘Did?’ ‘You never heard it, cousin? Vincent’s news Came stinted, then.’ ‘They did? they burnt Leigh Hall?’ ‘You’re sorry, dear Aurora? Yes indeed, They did it perfectly: a thorough work, And not a failure, this time. Let us grant ’Tis somewhat easier, though, to burn a house Than build a system:—yet that’s easy, too, In a dream. Books, pictures,—ay, the pictures! what, You think your dear Vandykes would give them pause? Our proud ancestral Leighs with those peaked beards, Or bosoms white as foam thrown up on rocks From the old-spent wave. Such calm defiant looks They flared up with! now, nevermore they’ll twit The bones in the family-vault with ugly death. Not one was rescued, save the Lady Maud, Who threw you down, that morning you were born, The undeniable lineal mouth and chin, To wear for ever for her gracious sake; For which good deed I saved her: the rest went: And you, you’re sorry, cousin. Well, for me, With all my phalansterians safely out, (Poor hearts, they helped the burners, it was said, And certainly a few clapped hands and yelled) The ruin did not hurt me as it might,— As when for instance I was hurt one day, A certain letter being destroyed. In fact, To see the great house flare so ... oaken floors, Our fathers made so fine with rushes once, Before our mothers furbished them with trains,— Carved wainscoats, panelled walls, the favourite slide For draining off a martyr, (or a rogue) The echoing galleries, half a half-mile long, And all the various stairs that took you up And took you down, and took you round about Upon their slippery darkness, recollect, All helping to keep up one blazing jest; The flames through all the casements pushing forth, Like red-hot devils crinkled into snakes, All signifying,—‘Look you, Romney Leigh, We save the people from your saving, here, Yet so as by fire! we make a pretty show Besides,—and that’s the best you’ve ever done.’— —To see this, almost moved myself to clap! The ‘vale et plaude’ came, too, with effect, When, in the roof fell, and the fire, that paused, Stunned momently beneath the stroke of slates And tumbling rafters, rose at once and roared, And wrapping the whole house, (which disappeared