A SOLDIER of the Cromwell stamp,
With sword and prayer-book at his side,
At home alike in church and camp:
Austere he lived, and smileless died.
But she, a creature soft and fine,—
From Spain, some say, some say from France:
Within her veins leapt blood like wine,—
She led her Roundhead lord a dance!
In Grantham church they lie asleep;
Just where, the verger may not know.
Strange that two hundred years should keep
The old ancestral fires aglow !
In me these two have met again ;
To each my nature owes a part:
To one, the cool and reasoning brain;
To one, the quick, unreasoning heart!
Thomas Bailey Aldrich.