Next morning, thinking of his dream, Lord L. Went down to breakfast in intent to tell The story of his vision. But he met With little sympathy. His wife was late, And in a hurry for her school of art. His lordship needed time to make a start On any topic, and no time she gave. Griselda had appointments she must save, And could not stop to hear of rhyme or reason-- The dream must wait a more convenient season. And so it was not told. Alas, alas! Who shall foretell what wars shall come to pass, What woes be wrought, what fates accomplishèd, What new dreams dreamt, what new tears vainly shed, What doubts, what anguish, what remorse, what fears Begotten in the womb of what new years!-- And all because of this, that poor Lord L. Was slow of speech, or that he slept too well! CHAPTER II. Thus then it was. Griselda's childhood ends With this untoward night; and what portends May only now be guessed by those who read Signs on the earth and wonders overhead. I dare not prophesy. What next appears In the vain record of Griselda's years Is hardly yet a token, for her life Showed little outward sign of change or strife, Though she was changed and though perhaps at war. Her face still shone untroubled as a star In the world's firmament, and still she moved, A creature to be wondered at and loved. Her zeal, her wit, her talents, her good sense Were all unchanged, though each seemed more intense And lit up with new passion and inspired To active purpose, valiant and untired. She faced the world, talked much and well, made friends, Promoted divers schemes for divers ends, Artistic, social, philanthropical: She had a store of zeal for each and all. She pensioned poets, nobly took in hand An emigration plan to Newfoundland, Which ended in disaster and a ball. She visited St. George's hospital, The Home for Fallen Women, founded schools Of music taught on transcendental rules. L. House was dull though splendid. She had schemes Of a vast London palace on the Thames, Which should combine all orders new and old Of architectural taste a house could hold, And educate the masses. Then one day, She fairly wearied and her soul gave way.