Puslapio vaizdai
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SIR WALTER VIVIAN all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
Up to the people: thither flock'd at noon
His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
The neighbouring borough with their Institute
Of which he was the patron. I was there
From college, visiting the son,—the son
A Walter too, with others of our set,

Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place.

And me that morning Walter show'd the house,


Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall

Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names,

Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay

Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park,

Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time;

And on the tables


clime and age

Jumbled together; celts and calumets,

Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans
Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,

Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere,

The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs
From the isles of palm: and higher on the walls,
Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer,
His own forefathers' arms and armour hung.

And 'this' he said 'was Hugh's at Agincourt;

And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon :
A good knight he! we keep a chronicle

With all about him '—which he brought, and I

Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights

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