Of leaden-coloured cloud aside. All jubilant they watched him ride, For see, the land was glorified: The morning pulsed with youth and mirth, It was as though upon the earth A new and gladder age had birth. The lark exulted in the blue, Triumphantly the rooster crew, The chimneys laughed, the sparks up-flew; And rolling westward out of sight, Like billows of majestic height, The Downs, transfigured in the light, Seemed such a garb of joy to wear, So young and radiant an air, God might but just have set them there. * * * * * Sir Herbert Springett, Ringmer's squire, (No better man in all the shire)-- He too was filled with kindling fire, Which, working in him, did incite The worthy and capacious knight To doughty deeds of appetite. Sir Herbert's lady watched her lord Range mightily about the board Which she of her abundance stored, (The Lady Barbara, for whom The blossoms of the simple-room Diffused their friendliest perfume, Than who none quicklier heard the call Of true distress, and left the Hall Eager to do her gentle all, When village patients needed aid. And O the rich Marchpane she made! And O the rare quince marmalade!) Just as the squire was satisfied, The noise of feet was heard outside; A knock. "Come in!" Sir Herbert cried. And lo! John Grigg in Sunday smock; Begged pardon, pulled an oily lock; Explained: "The mud's above the hough. "No horse could draw 'ee sir," he said. "Humph!" quoth the squire and scratched his head. "Then yoke the oxen in instead." (A lesser man would gladly turn His chair to fire again, and learn How fancifully logs can burn, Grateful for such immunity From parson. Not the squire; for see, "True sonne of England's Church" was he.) So, as he ordered, was it done. The oxen came forth one by one, Their wide horns glinting in the sun, And to the coach were yoked. Then--dressed, As squires should be, in glorious best, With wonderful brocaded vest,-- Out came Sir Herbert, took his seat, Waved "Barbara, farewell, my Sweet!" And off they started, all complete. Although they drew so light a load (For them!) so heavy was the road, John Grigg was busy with his goad. The cottagers in high delight Ran out to see the startling sight And make obeisance to the knight, While floated through the liquid air, And o'er the sunlit meadows fair, The throbbing belfry's call to prayer. At last, and after many a lurch That shook Sir Herbert in his perch, John Grigg drew up before the church; Moreover not a minute late. The villagers around the gate Were filled with wonder at his state,