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Then there was a poetic riddle, called 'The Maiden from Afar', a slight affair, but pretty in its way; a 'Lament of Ceres', in trochaic tetrameters, and a 'Dithyramb', wherein a poet is visited by all the Olympian gods and cheered with a draught of Hebe's joy-giving nectar.
"You speak of the haughtiness and the stern repellent demeanor of our Hebe's sister.
After some preliminaries, however, I found out that my old woman was Mrs. Tibbins, and my Hebe's name was Kotterin; also, that she knew much more Dutch than English, and not any too much of either. The old lady was the cook. I ventured a few inquiries. "Had she ever cooked?" "Yes, ma'am, sartain; she had lived at two or three places in the city."
A girl's bright, sweet face, looking out of a golden aureole of wild, loose hair; a pair of liquid, starry, azure eyes; a mouth like a rosebud, half pouting, half smiling. An exquisite face rosy, dimpled, youthful as Hebe's own the radiant face of Mollie Dane. The day was near its close, and was dying in regal splendor.
So many gallant officers were now to be seen at her father's house, half a cubit taller than poor Blyth, and a hundred cubits higher in rank, and wealth, and knowledge of the world, and the power of making their wives great ladies. Moreover, she liked a dark man, and Scudamore was fair and fresh as a rose called Hebe's Cup in June.
How I linger, how I listen for each mellow note that falls, Clear as chime of angels floating downward o'er the jasper walls! Every night, when winds are moaning round my chamber by the sea, Thine's the face that through the darkness latest looks with love at me; And I dream, ere thou departest, thou dost press thy lips to mine; Then I sleep as slept the Immortals after draughts of Hebe's wine!
I didn't know What my beating heart meant: Hebe's self I thought Entered the apartment. As she came she smiled, And the smile bewitching, On my word and honour, Lighted all the kitchen! This I do declare, Happy is the laddy Who the heart can share Of Peg of Limavaddy. Married if she were, Blest would be the daddy Of the children fair Of Peg of Limavaddy.
Milton could write, even after his faith had settled and matured: "Haste then, nymph, and bring with thee Jest and youthful jollity, Quips and Cranks and wanton Wiles, Nods and becks and wreathed Smiles, Such as hang on Hebe's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sports that wrinkled care derides And Laughter holding both his sides."
Therefore, painter, put as many as you can into this room. Make it populous with books, and, furthermore, paint me a good fire, and furniture plain and modest, befitting the unpretending cottage of a scholar. And as it is very unpleasant to make tea or to pour it out for oneself, paint me a lovely young woman sitting at the table. Paint her arms like Aurora's and her smiles like Hebe's.
Haste thee, Nymph; and bring with thee Jest and youthful Jollity, Quips and cranks and wanton wiles, Nods and becks and wreathèd smiles Such as hang on HEBE's cheek And love to live in dimple sleek; Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides.
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