Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/174

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AURORA LEIGH.
I'm tender; I've no stomach even for beef.Until I know about the girl that's lost,That's killed, mayhap. I did misdoubt, at first,The fine lord meant no good by her, or us.He, maybe, got the upper hand of herBy holding up a wedding-ring, and then . .A choking finger on her throat, last night,And just a clever tale to keep us still,As she is, poor lost innocent. 'Disappear!'Who ever disappears except a ghost?And who believes a story of a ghost?I ask you,—would a girl go off, insteadOf staying to be married? a fine tale!A wicked man, I say, a wicked man!For my part I would rather starve on ginThan make my dinner on his beef and beer.'—At which a cry rose up—'We'll have our rights.We'll have the girl, the girl! Your ladies thereAre married safely and smoothly every day,And she shall not drop through into a trapBecause she's poor and of the people: shame!We'll have no tricks played off by gentlefolks;We'll see her righted.'Through the rage and roarI heard the broken words which Romney flungAmong the turbulent masses, from the groundHe held still, with his masterful pale face—As huntsmen throw the ration to the pack,Who, falling on it headlong, dog on dogIn heaps of fury, rend it, swallow it up
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