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LADY GERALDINE'S COURTSHIP.
147
"But here, in this swarded circle, into which the limewalk brings us—
Whence the beeches rounded greenly, stand away in reverent fear,—
I will let no music enter, saving what the fountain sings us,
Which the lilies round the basin, may seem pure enough to hear.

"And the air that waves the lilies, waves this slender jet of water,
Like a holy thought sent feebly up from soul of fasting saint!
Whereby lies a marble Silence, sleeping! (Lough the sculptor wrought her)
So asleep, she is forgetting to say Hush!—a fancy quaint.

"Mark how heavy white her eyelids! not a dream between them lingers!
And the left hand's index droppeth from the lips upon the cheek:
And the right hand,—with the symbol rose held slack within the fingers,—
Has fallen backward in the basin—yet this Silence will not speak!

"That the essential meaning growing, may exceed the special symbol,
Is the thought, as I conceive it: it applies more high and low,—
Your true noblemen will often, through right nobleness, grow humble,
And assert an inward honour, by denying outward show."

"Yes, your Silence," said I, "truly holds her symbol rose but slackly,
Yet she holds it—or would scarcely be a Silence to our ken!
And your nobles wear their ermine on the outside, or walk blackly
In the presence of the social law, as most ignoble men.