A MEDLEY.
113
That it was little better in better times
With smoother men: the old leaven leaven'd all:
Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights,
No woman named: therefore I set my face
Against all men and lived but for mine own.
Far off from men we built a fold for them:
We stored it full of rich memorial:
We fenced it round with gallant institutes,
And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey,
And prosper'd; till a set of saucy boys
Brake on us at our books, and marr'd our peace,
Mask'd like our maids, blustering we know not what
Of insolence and love, some pretext held
Of old affiance, invalid, since our will
Seal'd not the bond—the striplings!—for their sport!—
We have tamed our leopards: shall we not tame these?
Or you? or we? for since you think we are touch'd
In honour—nay, we would not aught of false—
Is not our cause pure? and whereas we know
Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's blood
With smoother men: the old leaven leaven'd all:
Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights,
No woman named: therefore I set my face
Against all men and lived but for mine own.
Far off from men we built a fold for them:
We stored it full of rich memorial:
We fenced it round with gallant institutes,
And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey,
And prosper'd; till a set of saucy boys
Brake on us at our books, and marr'd our peace,
Mask'd like our maids, blustering we know not what
Of insolence and love, some pretext held
Of old affiance, invalid, since our will
Seal'd not the bond—the striplings!—for their sport!—
We have tamed our leopards: shall we not tame these?
Or you? or we? for since you think we are touch'd
In honour—nay, we would not aught of false—
Is not our cause pure? and whereas we know
Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's blood
