XIX.
When the goodman's shuttle merrily
Goes flashing through the loom,
And the good wife reads her Plato
In her own sequestered room;
With weeping and with laughter
Still shall the tale be told,
How pretty Pollia won the Bridge
In the brave days of old.
(1881).
[1] The ancient name of Hitchin.
JULIA.
An Ode.
[NOTE.—The following imitation of Cowper's Boadicea was written in 1858; most of its predictions have since been fulfilled.]
When the Cambridge flower-show ended,
And the flowers and guests were gone,
And the evening shades descended,
Roamed a man forlorn alone.
Sage beside the River slow
Sat the Don renowned for lore
And in accents soft and low
To the elms his love did pour.
"Julia, if my learned eyes
Gaze upon thy matchless face:
'Tis because I feel there lies
Magic in thy lovely grace.