“With every shifting gleam of morning light
The colours shifted of her rainbow vest.”
I asked him where those lines were to be found.
“Is it possible,” said he, “that you have never read the ‘Tears of old May-day!’ Well then, Caroline will, I am sure, be so kind as to shew it to you; and I think you had better celebrate this famous day, by writing an explanation of this beautiful poem, now so little read.
“You may explain it if you can, in the style of ‘Readings on Poetry;’ a very favourite book, you know, in this house. If any of the mythological allusions are not quite obvious, I will endeavour to explain them; and I will now only premise that the poem proceeds on the Eastern idea, that the year begins in May:
‘For ever then I led the constant year’
is therefore quite in character for
‘The flow’ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose.’”
This was a terrific task, and occupied me great part of the morning. At last, when it was finished, I came to the hall to refresh myself with my cousins at a new play, called La Grace, or the Flying Circle, which we have lately imported, and the description of which will probably divert Marianne more than any learned dissertation of mine on the “Tears of old May-day.”
Two people stand at opposite ends of the room, as in playing shuttlecock; each hold two nicely turned sticks, one end of which is pointed; and by a dextrous movement of these pointers, a light, elastic hoop, about eight inches diameter, is sent flying forward towards the person opposite, who catches it on her pointers, and immediately lets it fly back again. When played with two hoops it is still prettier, and requires much more expertness than shuttlecock.
Mary and I had played at it successfully for some time, when we were interrupted by poor little Grace, who, looking very sad, ran into the hall, put her pencil-case into Mary’s hand and vanished, brushing away a large tear from her cheek.