venged. I would not cringe
Down like a spaniel underneath the lash,
But like a man would teach my proud Pauline
And her hard father to repent the day
They called me '_beggar_.' Thus I raved and stormed
That mad night out;--forgot at dawn of morn
This holy book, but fell to a huge tome
And read two hundred pages in a day.
I could not keep the thread of argument;
I could not hold my mind upon the book;
I could not break the silent under-tow
That swept all else from out my throbbing brain
But false Pauline. I read from morn till night,
But having closed the book I could not tell
Aught of its contents. Then I cursed myself,
And muttered--'Fool--can you not shake it off--
This nightmare of your boyhood?--Brave, indeed--
Crushed like a spaniel by this false Pauline!
Crushed am I?--By the gods, I'll make an end,
And she shall never know it nettled me!'
So passed the weary days. My cheeks grew thin;
I needed rest, I said, and quit my books
To range the fields and hills with fowling-piece
And '_mal prepense_' toward the feathery flocks.
The pigeons flew from tree-tops o'er my head;
I heard the flap of wings--and they were gone;
The pheasant whizzed from bushes at my feet
Unseen until its sudden whir of wings
Startled and broke my wandering reverie;
And then I whistled and relapsed to dreams,
Wandering I cared not whither--wheresoe'er
My silent gun still bore its primal charge.
So gameless, but with cheeks and forehead tinged
By breeze and sunshine, I returned to books.
But still a phantom haunted all my dreams--
Awake or sleeping, for awake I dreamed--
A spectre that I could not chase away--
The phantom-form of my own false Pauline.

"Six months wore off--six long and weary months;
Then came a letter from a school-boy friend--
In answer to the queries I had made--
Filled with the gossip of my native town.
Unto her father's friend--a bachelor,
Her senior by full twenty years at least--
Dame Rumor said Pauline had pledged her hand.
I knew him well--a sly and cunning man--
A honey-tongued, false-hearted flatterer.
And he my rival--carrying off my prize?
But what cared I? 'twas all the same to me--
Yea, better for the sweet revenge to come.
So whispered pride, but in my secret heart
I cared, and hoped whatever came to pass
She might be happy all her days on earth,
And find a happy haven at the end.

"My thoughtful master bade me quit my books
A month at least, for I was wearing out.
'Unbend the bow,' he said. Hi