Cox, he seems to have been thoroughly at his ease; and one
can gather from his expressions that this unusual result depended upon a
fair counterbalance of claims. While she was self-centred in her beauty
and attractiveness, he was self-centred in his intellect and
aspirations. There is an early poem of his--the reverse of a good
one--which seems worth quoting here. I presume he may have been in his
twenty-first year or so when he wrote it:--

"Woman, when I behold thee flippant, vain,
Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies;
Without that modest softening that enhances
The downcast eye, repentant of the pain
That its mild light creates to heal again;
E'en then elate my spirit leaps and prances,
E'en then my soul with exultation dances,
For that to love so long I've dormant lain.
But, when I see thee meek and kind and tender,
Heavens! how desperately do I adore
Thy winning graces! To be thy defender
I hotly burn--to be a Calidore,
A very Red-cross Knight, a stout Leander--
Might I be loved by thee like these of yore.

Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair,
Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast,
Are things on which the dazzled senses rest
Till the fond fixed eyes forget they stare.
From such fine pictures, Heavens! I cannot dare
To turn my admiration, though unpossessed
They be of what is worthy--though not dressed
In lovely modesty and virtues rare.
Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;
These lures I straight forget--e'en ere I dine
Or thrice my palate moisten. But, when I mark
Such charms with mild intelligences shine,
My ear is open like a greedy shark
To catch the tunings of a voice divine.

Ah who can e'er forget so fair a being?
Who can forget her half-retiring sweets?
God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats
For man's protection. Surely the All-seeing,
Who joys to see us with His gifts agreeing,
Will never give him pinions who entreats
Such innocence to ruin--who vilely cheats
A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing
One's thoughts from such a beauty. When I hear
A lay that once I saw her hand awake,
Her form seems floating palpable and near.
Had I e'er seen her from an arbour take
A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,
And o'er my eyes the trem