FullReads

Slowly and conscious of the rageful eye
That watch’d him, till he heard the ponderous door
Close, crashing with long echoes thro’ the land,
Went Leolin; then, his passions all in flood
And masters of his motion, furiously
Down thro’ the bright lawns to his brother’s ran,
And foam’d away his heart at Averill’s ear:
Whom Averill solaced as he might, amazed:
The man was his, had been his father’s, friend:
He must have seen, himself had seen it long;
He must have known, himself had known: besides,
He never yet had set his daughter forth
Here in the woman-markets of the west,
Where our Caucasians let themselves be sold.
Some one, he thought, had slander’d Leolin to him.
`Brother, for I have loved you more as a son
Than brother, let me tell you: I myself–
What is their pretty saying? jilted is it?
Jilted I was: I say it for your peace.
Pain’d, and, as bearing in myself the shame
The woman should have borne, humiliated,
I lived for years a stunted sunless life;
Till after our good parents past away
Watching your growth, I seem’d again to grow.
Leolin, I almost sin in envying you:
The very whitest lamb in all my fold
Loves you: I know her: the worst thought she has
Is whiter even than her pretty hand:
She must prove true: for, brother, where two fight
The strongest wins, and truth and love are strength,
And you are happy: let her parents be.’

But Leolin cried out the more upon them–
Insolent, brainless, heartless! heiress, wealth,
Their wealth, their heiress! wealth enough was theirs
For twenty matches. Were he lord of this,
Why, twenty boys and girls should marry on it,
And forty blest ones bless him, and himself
Be wealthy still, ay wealthier. He believed
This filthy marriage-hindering Mammon made
The harlot of the cities: nature crost
Was mother of the foul adulteries
That saturate soul with body. Name, too! name,
Their ancient name! they MIGHT be proud; its worth
Was being Edith’s. Ah, how pale she had look’d
Darling, to-night! they must have rated her
Beyond all tolerance. These old pheasant-lords,
These partridge-breeders of a thousand years,
Who had mildew’d in their thousands, doing nothing
Since Egbert–why, the greater their disgrace!
Fall back upon a name! rest, rot in that!
Not KEEP it noble, make it nobler? fools,
With such a vantage-ground for nobleness!
He had known a man, a quintessence of man,
The life of all–who madly loved–and he,
Thwarted by one of these old father-fools,
Had rioted his life out, and made an end.
He would not do it! her sweet face and faith
Held him from that: but he had powers, he knew it:
Back would he to his studies, make a name,
Name, fortune too: the world should ring of him
To shame these mouldy Aylmers in their graves:
Chancellor, or what is greatest would he be–
`O brother, I am grieved to learn your grief–
Give me my fling, and let me say my say.’

At which, like one that sees his own excess,
And easily forgives it as his own,
He laugh’d; and then was mute; but presently
Wept like a storm: and honest Averill seeing
How low his brother’s mood had fallen, fetch’d
His richest beeswing from a binn reserved
For banquets, praised the waning red, and told
The vintage–when THIS Aylmer came of age–
Then drank and past it; till at length the two,
Tho’ Leolin flamed and fell again, agreed
That much allowance must be made for men.
After an angry dream this kindlier glow
Faded with morning, but his purpose held.