imperial

There are who say the sonnet's meted maze

Is all too fettered for the poet's powers,

Compelled to crowd his flush and airy flowers

Like pots of tall imperials, ill at ease.

...and she was just in time to see Mr. Boyne Sillery hand her aunt into a carriage, jump in himself, when it drove off with a rapidity which scarcely allowed her to observe that a large imperial was on the top, and her aunt's servant, with a huge bandbox, on the dickey.