University of Virginia Library

IV. SEDLEY GROVE.

Thus flow'd thought, and the Trent flow'd, and the time;
Until had ceased the unharmonic chime
Of feather'd flutes; no finny sporter leapt;
For the hot afternoon had, king-like, kept
For some time now the throne whereon, at last, he slept.
Whether the heat made me also to doze
And dream, or not, that man may tell who knows;
But, all at once, the place had changed its style
From Clifton Grove, to Sedley; and the isle—
The largest of the three above whose heads
The river broaden'd by me,—two, mere beds
Of osiers, but the third a glassy plain,—
Was Mary Leeson's empire once again.
Sudden I heard owls' bass tu-whits, which seem'd
To multiply behind me; and there scream'd
The treble of some mystic chanticleer;
And dogs' barks and sheep's bleatings took my ear.
A moment's wonderment, and then loud laughter
Its merry gamut ran; and, soon thereafter,
I saw inside a boat upon the Trent
Two pairs of white shirt-sleeves, alternate bent
At elbow and then straighten'd out again,
In which were thrust the stout arms of two men,
Whose heads over their crooked knees stoop'd low
One instant, and, the next, jerk'd back to throw,
With tight-held breath, weight on the oar, whose pull
Against the current, makes the boat, though full
Of freight, thrust forward its sharp eager nose,
And give a wrestling leap-up as it goes.
Meanwhile, under its side, two upside-down
And watery-looking things wagg'd each a crown,
As the men's wagg'd above; and elbows four,
In liquid white shirt-sleeves, tugg'd each its liquid oar.
Other reflections, too, were there, related
To other counterparts, wherewith was freighted
That boat; a pleasant aristocracy,
That sat, and nothing did but laugh out free,
Add burden to the vessel, jest, and make
A pleasure of what gave the bones to ache
Of those two workers:—these were, Mary's mother
For one; and sweet aunt Emmeline another;
And little Mary of the soft blue eyes
And pale child's face, so merry, yet so wise;
Old Mr. Fenton, too, the vessel bore,
Man of dull sight, but deep canary-lore;
And wonderful Charles Sunderland, who held
The tiller, and his peace. Thus on impell'd
By uncle Edward's usage of the Trent,
Vig'rous, and Mary's father's, up they went;
Till out of sight the pleasant vision drove,
And left me once again in Clifton Grove.