She had a tall man's height or more; Her face from summer's noontide heat No bonnet shaded, but she wore A mantle, to her very feet
Descending with a graceful flow, And on her head a cap as white as new-fallen snow. Her skin was of Egyptian brown: Haughty, as if her eye had seen
Its own light to a distance thrown, She towered, fit person for a Queen To leadthose ancient Amazonian files; Or ruling Bandit's wife among the Grecian isles.
Advancing, forth she stretched her hand And begged an alms with doleful plea That ceased not; on our English land Such woes, I knew, could never be;
And yet a boon I gave her, for the creature Was beautiful to see — a weed of glorious feature. I left her, and pursued my way; And soon before me did espy
A pair of little Boys at play, Chasing a crimson butterfly; The taller followed with his hat in hand, Wreathed round with yellow flowers the gayest of the land.
The other wore a rimless crown With leaves of laurel stuck about; And, while bothfollowed up and down, Each whooping with a merry shout,
In their fraternal features I could trace Unquestionable lines of that wild Suppliant's face. Yet they, so blithe of heart, seemed fit For finest tasks of earth or air:
Wings let them have, and they might flit Precursors toAurora's car, Scattering fresh flowers; though happier far, I ween, To hunt their fluttering game o'er rock and level green.
They dart across my path — but lo, Each ready with a plaintive whine! Said I, “not half an hour ago Your Mother has had alms of mine.”
“That cannot be,” one answered — “she is dead:” — I looked reproof — they saw — but neither hung his head. “She has been dead, Sir, many a day.” — “Hush, boys! you're telling me a lie;
It was your Mother, as I say!” And, in the twinkling of an eye, “Come! come!” cried one, and without more ado, Off to some other play the joyous Vagrants flew!
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