Page:Poems Holley.djvu/155

How one grim old ancestor into the land.
 With William the Conqueror came,
She thought, the sweet, of a conqueror
 She knew with that very name.

So in this tender conflict
 The great man was forced to yield
To the handsome, sunburnt ploughman
 Who sowed and reaped in his field;
For vainly he poured out his glittering gifts,
 Vainly he plead and besought,
Her heart was a tender and soft little heart,
 But it was not a heart to be bought.

So strange a thing I warrant you
 Happens not every day,
That the pride that had thriven for centuries
 One slight little maiden should slay;
Why the proud Squire's Roman features
 Quivered and burned with shame,
And the picture of his grim ancestor
 Blushed in its antique frame.

Were this a romance, an idle tale,
 The Squire would sicken and die,
Slain by the pitiless cruelty,
 Of her dark and dazzling eye;