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Jane Aldridge marred
It would have been a great privilege to be the mistress of an old time-honoured mansion, to call oaks and elms her own, to know that acres of gardens were submitted to her caprices, to look at herds of cows and oxen, and be aware that they lowed on her own pastures.
- 1869 May, Anthony Trollope, “The Honourable Mr. Glascock”, in He Knew He Was Right, volume I, London: Strahan and Company, publishers, […], OCLC1118026626, page 107:
Beautiful, jubilant, classic subject; her season of light and black, Vermeer and Van Dyck: noble, Balthus-postured.
Exuberant, all-eyes, immediate, draping poise fully fine shoulders,
risen eccentric from the brush.
Sculpted swirls materialize resistless porcelain; Delftware flowers her face.
Alma-Tadema decadence, dramatic Pina Bausch.
In romance she walks a bed of rose petals.
Her face, pale alabaster stone, pink.
Roman visions reveal feathery strips of black fastening as leather harnesses the horse, the softness of her femininity glows.
Wild champion, artistic inspiration, luxury she knowledgeably expresses?
I am continuously renewed with her meaning.