Soon there came a stately lover,--praised my beauty, softly smiled: 'He would make my mother happy,'--I was but a silly child! Came a dream of sudden power--fairest visions o'er me glide-- Wider spheres would open for me;--dazzled, I became a bride: Fondly deemed my lonely mother would be freed from sordid care; Splendor I might pour around her, every joy with her might share. Then the Poet, who had never breathed one word of love to me,-- We might shape his life-course for him, give him culture wide and free. How I longed to turn the pages, with a husband's hand as guide, Of the long-past golden ages, art and science at my side! To my simple fancy seemed it almost everything he knew-- Ah! he might have won affection, faithful, fervent, trusting, true! I was happy, never dreaming wealth congeals the human soul, Freezing all its generous impulse--I but saw its wide control. Years have passed--a larger culture poured strange knowledge through my mind-- I have learned to read man's nature: better I were ever blind! How can I take upon me what I look upon with scorn, Or learn to brook my own contempt, or trample the forlorn? I cannot live by rote and rule; I was not born a slave To narrow fancies; I must feel, although a husband rave! I cannot choose my friends because I know them rich, or great; My heart elects the noble,--what cares love for wealth or state? Very lovely are my pictures, saints and angels throng my hall-- But with shame my cheek is flushing, and my quivering lashes fall: Can I gaze on pictured actions, daring deeds, and emprise high, And not feel my degradation while these fetters round me lie? Once the Poet came to see me, but it gave me nought but pain; I was glad to see the Gifted go, ne'er to return again. For my husband scorning told me: 'True, his lines were very sweet, But his clothes, so worn and seedy--scarce for me acquaintance meet! Artists, poets, men of genius, truly should be better paid, But not holding our position, cannot be our friends,' he said. 'As gentlemen to meet them were a very curious thing; They were happier in their garrets--there let them sigh or sing. There were Travers and De Courcy--could he ask them home to dine, At the risk of meeting truly such strange fellows o'er their wine?' Then he said, 'My cheeks were peachy, lips were coral, curls were gold, But he liked them braided crown-like, and with pearls and diamonds rolled. I was once a little peasant; now I stood a jewelled queen-- Fitter that a calmer presence in his stately wife were seen!' Then he gave a gorgeous card-case; set with rubies, Roman gold, Handed me a paper with it, strands of pearls around it rolled; Names of all his wife should visit I would find upon the roll:-- Found I none I loved within it--not one friend upon the scroll!