Page:Maud, and other poems.djvu/55

Rh

, am I sick of a jealous dread? Was not one of the two at her side This new-made lord, whose splendour plucks The slavish hat from the villager's head? Whose old grand-father has lately died, Gone to a blacker pit, for whom Grimy nakedness dragging his trucks And laying his trams in a poison'd gloom Wrought, till he crept from a gutted mine Master of half a servile shire, And left his coal all turn'd into gold To a grandson, first of his noble line,