"took the tax away,
And built herself an everlasting name,"
by as much as her task was harder, herself more helpless, and her reward less. Like her of Coventry,
"left alone, the passions of her mind,
As winds from all the compass shift and blow,
Made war upon each other for an hour,
Till Pity won."
She said to the World,—"If this woman pay your tax, she dies."
And the World mocked,—"You would not let your little finger ache for such as this!"
"But I would die," said she,—"and more,—I will bear your mocking and your hisses!"
"Oh! ay, ay, ay! you talk!" said the World.
But we have seen already. She had no herald to send forth and "bid him cry, with sound of trumpet, all the hard condition." No palfrey awaited her, "wrapt in purple, blazoned with armorial gold." For her, indeed,
"The little wide-mouthed heads upon the spout,
Had cunning eyes to see…"
"…the blind walls
Were full of chinks and holes; and, overhead,
Fantastic gables stared."