Yet I could not choose but love her: I was born to poet-uses, To love all things set above me, all of good and all of fair. Nymphs of mountain, not of valley, we are wont to call the Muses; And in nympholeptic climbing, poets pass from mount to star. IX. And because I was a poet, and because the public praised me, With a critical deduction for the modern writer's fault, I could sit at rich men's tables,--though the courtesies that raised me, Still suggested clear between us the pale spectrum of the salt. X. And they praised me in her presence--"Will your book appear this summer?" Then returning to each other--"Yes, our plans are for the moors." Then with whisper dropped behind me--"There he is! the latest comer. Oh, she only likes his verses! what is over, she endures. XI. "Quite low-born, self-educated! somewhat gifted though by nature, And we make a point of asking him,--of being very kind. You may speak, he does not hear you! and, besides, he writes no satire,-- All these serpents kept by charmers leave the natural sting behind." XII. I grew scornfuller, grew colder, as I stood up there among them, Till as frost intense will burn you, the cold scorning scorched my brow; When a sudden silver speaking, gravely cadenced, over-rung them, And a sudden silken stirring touched my inner nature through. XIII. I looked upward and beheld her: with a calm and regnant spirit, Slowly round she swept her eyelids, and said clear before them all-- "Have you such superfluous honour, sir, that able to confer it You will come down, Mister Bertram, as my guest to Wycombe Hall?" XIV. Here she paused; she had been paler at the first word of her speaking, But, because a silence followed it, blushed somewhat, as for shame: Then, as scorning her own feeling, resumed calmly--"I am seeking More distinction than these gentlemen think worthy of my claim. XV. "Ne'ertheless, you see, I seek it--not because I am a woman," (Here her smile sprang like a fountain and, so, overflowed her mouth) "But because my woods in Sussex have some purple shades at gloaming Which are worthy of a king in state, or poet in his youth. XVI. "I invite you, Mister Bertram, to no scene for worldly speeches-- Sir, I scarce should dare--but only where God asked the thrushes first: And if _you_ will sing beside them, in the covert of my beeches, I will thank you for the woodlands,--for the human world, at worst." XVII. Then she smiled around right childly, then she gazed around right queenly, And I bowed--I could not answer; alternated light and gloom-- While as one who quells the lions, with a steady eye serenely, She, with level fronting eyelids, passed out stately from the room. XVIII.