Page:Enoch Arden, etc - Tennyson - 1864.djvu/87

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AYLMER’S FIELD.
71
Darling, to-night! they must have rated herBeyond all tolerance. These old pheasant-lords,These partridge-breeders of a thousand years,Who had mildew'd in their thousands, doing nothingSince Egbert—why, the greater their disgrace!Fall back upon a name! rest, rot in that!Not keep it noble, make it nobler? fools,With such a vantage-ground for nobleness!He had known a man, a quintessence of man,The life of all—who madly loved—and he,Thwarted by one of these old father-fools,Had rioted his life out, and made an end.He would not do it! her sweet face and faithHeld him from that: but he had powers, he knew it:Back would he to his studies, make a name,Name, fortune too: the world should ring of himTo shame these mouldy Aylmers in their graves:Chancellor, or what is greatest would he be—'O brother, I am grieved to learn your grief—Give me my fling, and let me say my say.'
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