IMAGINARY CONVERSATION BE TWEEN ROGER ASCHAM AND LADY JANE GREY Ascham. Thou are going, my dear young lady, into a most awful state; thou art passing into matrimony and great wealth. God hath willed it. Submit in thankfulness. Thy affections are righly placed and well distributed. Love is a secondary passion in those who love most, a primary in those who love least. He who is inspired by it in a high degree is inspired by honor in a higher: it never reaches its plenitude of growth and perfection but in the most exalted minds. Alas! alas! Jane. What aileth my virtuous Ascham? What is amiss? Why do I tremble? Ascham. I remember a sort of prophecy, made three years ago; it is a prophecy of thy condition and of my feelings on it. Recollectest thou who wrote, sitting upon the sea-beach, the evening after an excursion to the Isle of Wight, these verses? Invisibly bright water! so like air, On looking down I fear'd thou couldst not bear Jane.. I was very childish when I composed them; and, if I had thought any more about the matter, I should have hoped you had been too generous to keep them in your memory as witnesses against me. Ascham. Nay, they are not much amiss for so young a girl, and there being so few of them, I did not reprove thee. Half an hour, I thought, might have been spent more unprofitably; and I now shall believe it firmly, if thou wilt but be led by them to meditate a little on the similarity of situation in which thou then wert to what thou art now in. Jane. I will do it, and whatever else you command; for I am weak by nature and very timorous, unless where a strong sense of duty holdeth and supporteth me. There God acteth, and not His creature. Those were with me at sea who would have been attentive to me if I had seemed to be afraid, even though worshipful men and women were in the company; so that something more powerful threw my fear overboard. Yet I never will go again upon the water. Ascham. Exercise that beauteous couple, that mind and body, much and variously, but at home, at home, Jane! in-doors, and about things in-doors; for God is there too. We have rocks and quicksands on the banks of our Thames, O lady, such as Ocean never heard of; and many (who knows how soon!) may be ingulfed in the current under their garden walls. Jane. Thoroughly do I now understand you. Yes, indeed, I have read evil things of courts; but I think nobody can go out bad who entereth good, if timely and true warning shall have been given. Ascham. I see perils on perils which thou dost not see, albeit thou art wiser than thy poor old master. And it is not because Love hath blinded thee, for that surpasseth his supposed omnipotence; but it is because thy tender heart, having always leant affectionately upon good, hath felt and known nothing of evil. I once persuaded thee to reflect much: let me now persuade thee to avoid the habitude of reflection, to lay aside books, and to gaze carefully and steadfastly on what is under and before thee. Jane. I have well bethought me of my duties: Oh, how extensive they are; what a goodly and fair inheritance! But tell me, would you command me never more to read Cicero, and Epictetus, and Plutarch, and Polybius? The others I do resign: they are good for the arbor and for the gravel walk: yet leave unto me, I beseech you, my friend and father, leave unto me for my fireside and my pillow, truth, eloquence, courage, constancy. Ascham. Read them on thy marriage-bed, on thy child-bed, on thy death-bed. Thou spotless, un drooping lily, they have fenced thee right well. These are the men for men: these are to fashion the bright and blessed creatures whom God one day shall smile upon in thy chaste bosom. Mind thou thy husband. Jane. I sincerely love the youth who hath espoused me; I love him with the fondest, the most solicitous affection; I pray to the Almighty for his goodness and happiness, and do forget at times, unworthy supplicant! the prayers I should have offered for myself. Never fear that I will disparage my kind, religious teacher by disobedience to my husband in the most trying duties. Ascham. Gentle is he, gentle and virtuous; but time will harden him: time must harden even thee, sweet Jane! Do thou, complacently and indirectly, lead him from ambition. Jane. He is contented with me, and with home. Ascham. Ah, Jane! Jane! men of high estate grow tired of contentedness. Jane. He told me he never liked books unless I read them to him: I will read them to him every evening; I will open new worlds to him, richer than those discovered by the Spaniard: I will conduct him to treasures-oh, what treasures!-on which he may sleep in innocence and peace. Ascham. Rather do thou walk with him, ride with him, play with him, be his fairy, his page, his everything that love and poetry have invented: but watch him well; sport with his fancies, turn them about, -like the ringlets round his cheek; and if he ever meditate on power, go toss up thy baby to his brow, and bring back his thoughts into his heart by the music of thy discourse. Teach him to live unto God and unto thee; and he will discover that women, like the plants in woods, derive their softness and tenderness from the shade. I THE MAIDEN'S LAMENT LOVED him not; and yet now he is gone, I checkt him while he spoke; yet could he speak, For reasons not to love him once I sought, To vex myself and him: I now would give Who lately lived for me, and when he found He hid his face amid the shades of death! Who wasted his for me; but mine returns With stifling heat, heaving it up in sleep, Tears that had melted his soft heart: for years "Merciful God!" such was his latest prayer "These may she never share!" Quieter is his breath, his breast more cold Than daises in the mould, Where children spell athwart the churchyard gate Pray for him, gentle souls, whoe'er ye be, THE ONE GRAY HAIR HE wisest of the wise Listen to pretty lies, And love to hear 'em told; Listen'd to many a one,— Some in his youth, and more when he grew old. I never sat among The choir of Wisdom's song, But pretty lies loved I As much as any king When youth was on the wing, And (must it then be told?) when youth had quite gone by. Alas! and I have not The pleasant hour forgot, I see (sit quiet now!) a white hair on your head!" Another, more benign, And in her own dark hair She lept, and twirl'd it round. Fair as she was, she never was so fair. TO THE SISTER OF ELIA COMF OMFORT thee, O thou mourner, yet a while! Refresh thy heart, where heart can ache no more. |