STANDARD LITERATURE SERIES
THE PEINCESS
BT
ALFEED TEEJSTTSOE
WITH AH IHTKODUCTIOH AHD HOTES
BY
EDWARD EVERETT HALE, Jr., Ph.D.
PROFESSOR OF RHETORIC AND LOGIC, HNION COLLEGE
UNIVBESITY PUBLISHING COMPANY
NEW YORK ♦ BOSTON . NEW ORLEANS
Copyright, 1903, by
UNIVERSITY PUBUSHING COMPANY
2591
Press of J. J. Little & Co.
Aster Place, New York
PEEFATORY NOTE.
The notes in this edition, it may be well to remark, explain
a good deal which the student might probably find out for
himself with slight trouble. It is true that some authorities
on education believe that this deprives the student of an op¬
portunity to gain information for himself and so form scholarly
habits. In this contention they are quite correct. But the
availing himself of that opportunity would make a student
interrupt his reading and his enjoyment of the poem in order
to gain linguistic, historical and literary facts, and also the
habit of diligence. As none of these matters have a close con¬
nection with the appreciation of poetry, it is thought that the
true object of reading "The Princess" will be well served
without considering them. The introduction is meant to serve
chiefiy as guide to the answers to the questions suggested
for study.
Edward E. Hale, Jr.
Union College.
CONTENTS.
paeb
PRBPATOKY NOTE v
INTRODUCTION . . , vii
The Genbeal Character of the Poem ... . tü
The Storï and the Characters ..... ix
The Ideas xi
The Language and the Meter ...... xxi
Tennyson's Pictorial Quality xxvi
Suggestions for Study . xxvii
Important Dates in Tennyson's Life .... xxviii
THE PRINCESS , 1
INTRODUCTION.
The General Character of the Poem.
" The Pkihcess " was the first of Tennyson's longer poems;
it was published three years before "In Memoriam," eight
years before "Maud," twelve years before the first four " Idylls
of the King." His earlier volumes of poems, of 1830 and
1832, had attracted attention rather unfavorable than favor¬
able. His next volume, that of 1842, was the first that was
received with well-nigh universal applause. Still, when he
published " The Princess," Tennyson was not the recognized
great poet of England, as some of us remember him. He had
published beautiful poems, but very little dealing with serious
ideas. He was but thirty-eight years old.
It was not unnatural, then, that, having some serious ideas,
Tennyson should have clothed them in light and beautiful
form. " The Princess " is a poem with serious ideas at bot¬
tom, but in form it is charming, delicate, often fantastic.
Indeed, at its time of publishing it was held by some to be
trivial, incongruous and in poor taste. Those who feel very
earnestly on any subject cannot, as a rule, bear that any one
should take the matters which are vital to them in a lighter
way. The subject of the true position of woman in this world,
of her right relation to man, of her higher education and cul¬
ture, is surely a serious subject. Tennyson treated it in a
manner that had much about it that was satirical and banter¬
ing; it seemed to some who had the cause at heart that he
was trifling with a great theme.
We must understand, however, that though the poem seems
viii
INTRODUCTION
externally to be in lighter vein, it is really a disenssion of seri¬
ous matters put in a way that seems, to the poet at least,
serious. The form chosen by Tennyson clearly appealed to
him because it gave him opportunity for the presentation of
his ideas in a beautiful way, and to a poet anything that is
beautiful is serious enough. Thus the idea of the Women's
College, although at that time it was almost necessarily treated
with a slight admixture of satire," was a means that rendered
possible many beautiful pictures and beautiful ways of put¬
ting things. From the stately Princess herself to the little
undergraduate who studied her lessons while she stroked her
peacock, everything gives the poet the chance for beautiful
presentation, and on the other hand the medieval Prince (for
such he seems, readily putting on armor and fighting in
tournament), with the characters that come naturally with
him—Florian, Cyril, kings, bush-bearded barons and gilded
s(]uires—they, too, give the poet the chance that he desired
for beautiful picture and description. Tennyson was willing
that all should be impossible ; he felt that the time was not
ripe for decision in the matters he was thinking about; had
it been, he was not the man to give thorough examination to
the matter and to offer a carefully arranged opinion. He
wished only to present ideas; and ideas could be presented in
the form of an extravaganza as well as any other.
Hence "The Princess'' is called a Medley. The prologue ac¬
counts for the matter poetically; in point of fact, the particu¬
lar form he took gave Tennyson the opportunity he desired
for beauty and variety; we have poetic narrative and charming
lyric, beautiful picture and serious thought. If all is blended
without real incongruity or jar, anything may be allowed. It
is like the extravagance of a Christmas revel where, in memory
of the most serious fact of history, every one expresses good
spirits and lightness of heart by all sorts of jest as well as by
acts of real kindness.
1 Cf. p. xi, note.
INTEODUCTION
ix
The Story and the Characters.
The story of "The Princess" is not at all difficult to follow.
In spite of the account of its origin given in the Prologue, it
is really much more simple and definite than any such seven¬
fold story could be. The end was pretty clearly in the poet's
view from the very beginning, and all the different tnrns he
gives to the ideas that form his subject-matter (see p. xv)
tend and lead up to his conclusions, prepare the mind for it
and incline us to accept it. The action is so closely connected
with the development of the idea that we may put off any
study of it till we come to the latter subject. It may, how¬
ever, be said here that, consistently with the general extrava¬
gance of the tone of the poem, the main incident, the intrusion
of the Prince and his fellows into the college, is not merely
impossible but almost absurd, and must be thought of in the
lightest way. It was a necessity, one may say, to bring the
two together, but it results in some incongruities that Ten¬
nyson finds it hard to carry away with the tone of light
banter (IV., 527-534; V., 10-21), and it makes it quite impos¬
sible for US to consider the Prince at all in the light of a true
hero.
If we spend a moment in consideration of the characters, we
shall doubtless consider the Princess as the chief figure, and
certainly a noble and beautiful one. She is the idea of the
poem personified, and in her change of thought and feeling
at the end of the poem we have Tennyson's conception of the
development of idea that would necessarily come before the
right solution could be reached. As for the Prince, he is
rather a conventional figure, not impressing us with much of
any idea, save that of honor and right-mindedness even in the
midst of his extraordinary escapade. His weird seizures are
a curious element in his character. Those who have had any¬
thing which is at all like them (as Tennyson is said to have
had, though nothing so serious as catalepsy) will perceive a
X
INTRODUCTION
certain sense in them; others will find them hard to under¬
stand. Tennyson undoubtedly regarded them as a note of
the idealist. Not only had he himself experienced something
like them, but he presents them to us in the person of King
Arthur. In " The Holy Grail," written some time after " The
Princess," the King says, "when his work is done"
" ' Let visions of the night or of the day
Come as they will; and many a time they come,
Until this earth he walks on seems not earth,
This light that strikes his eye-ball is not light.
The air that strikes his forehead is not air
But vision—yea, his very hand and foot—
In moments when he feels he cannot die.
And knows himself no vision to himself.
Nor the high God a vision, nor that One
Who rose again.' "
11. 906-915.
Such was clearly enough Tennyson's idea. But it will
hardly be thought by any one that the idea is particularly well
carried out. The weird seizures do not explain themselves
sufficiently, we do not clearly perceive their relation to the
course of events, and why they should come at one time rather
than at another. The Prince and the Princess are both ideal¬
ists; but the Prince is a dreamer, while the Princess is an
enthusiast.
Equally interesting as contrasting characters are the old
King, the father of the Prince, and Gama. The former is
the more important person in the poem, but the latter is the
more of a character, more personal and original. He is well
worth a little study.
But subtle character-drawing is not one of the great things
about Tennyson. He draws his characters easily and defi¬
nitely; there is no mistake about them as a rule. He never
presents such complexities as Browning, and hence his char¬
acters are rather better for younger students to run over and
define.
INTKODUCTION
xi
The Ideas.
This poem, with its only half-serious story and written in
its purely poetical manner, is really the outcome of very seri¬
ous thought upon a serious subject. Its lightness and its
beauty are charming in themselves, and in thinking of the
poem as a whole, we see that they are the necessary means of
expression of the poet, who must present even his most serious
ideas, not in the language of the philosopher and the sociolo¬
gist, but in forms of beauty and charm. A poem is not a
treatise; it does not prove anything or settle anything by
argument. But if a poet have sound thought, his poem pre¬
sents it in such a persuasive and attractive way that we are
insensibly led to sympathize with bis ideas, though more
by a sort of poetic logic than by the logic of syllogisms.
The ideas at the bottom of " The Princess " were those ques¬
tionings which so profoundly influenced the nineteenth century
concerning the true position of woman in the world. More
particularly the poem concerns itself with the question of the
education of women, but that question is closely connected
with that of the relation of woman to man, and that is but
another way of putting the main question of woman's true
position in the world.
School-boys and girls of to-day, even many teachers, will not
remember what a burning question that was for a long time.
"We have not settled it now; but many things are settled which
were by no means clear in 1847.' So we must remember that
the whole subject of our poem was a matter which was fluid,
as one might say, in the popular mind.
1 For instance, in the matter of collegiate education of women it is worth noting that»
although there had-long been in this country many excellent schools and seminaries for
girls, Vassar College was founded in 1861, Smith and Wellesley in 1875, Bryn Mawr in
1880, while Cornell was not opened till 1868, Michigan not open to women till 1870, and
Radclifte and Barnard Colleges not founded till 1883 and 1889 respectively. Nor was
England farther advanced. So the idea of the Princess's College, which to us has much
that is by no means unusual, had at the time it was written the character of pure imagina^
tion and fantasy.
Xll
INTRODUCTION
Oa this great question Tennyson expressed himself. But
poet-like, he does not propound some definite idea and set out
to prove it. He tells a story and in it presents all sorts of
ideas bearing on the subject; then gradually, by leading our
sympathy and interest in one direction, he ends by leaving us
for the moment under the infiuence of one dominant idea.
It will be well, however, to note all the different points of
view.
First, then, is that idea which seems almost as old as the
world, of the woman rivalling man in his own sphere. In all
sorts of places—among the old Greeks, among the Germans in
the far north, even among the savages of Africa and of the
Hew World—was the conception of the Amazon, the woman
who leaves cradle and kettle and spinning-wheel and rivals
man in his own sphere of strife.
" Oh, miracle of woman, says the book " {Prol., 35),
as it tells how the Lady put on helmet and armor and drove
the enemy from the walls. This, we may say, is the simplest
solution of the question. Man, let us agree, has for centuries
dominated woman; now let the pendulum swing back, and let
woman show that she can dominate man. Only as brute
force is not now the power that rules the world, but intellect,
knowledge, sciencej she will not be the Amazon as you may
see her on the Grecian frieze with bow and arrow, or as Joan
of Arc rode into Orleans, armed cap-a-pie in steel. The
modern Amazon will conquer in the realm of mind. Hence
the idea of the college, the turning of the general idea into
the particular form. So the Prologhe prepares us for the
poem.
The poem gives us this idea of the Amazon of the Intellect,
the modern and the future woman, and shows us how it is by
time and circumstance moulded and modified into something
quite different from its first and simpler form. But it also
gives various other ideas, and arrives at a conclusion not by
INTRODUCTION
xiii
argument, as has been said, but by a combination of motives
and a gradual drawing of the sympathy and interest in one
direction. The first of the other ideas is that of the King of
the Northern Empire. As be is the rather conventional em¬
bodiment of old ideas of lord and master, rough, simple, crude,
he naturally believes in old ideas. He expresses them with
vigor :
" Man for the field and woman for the hearth,"
he says in V., 437 ; and as for her education, he is well assured
(V. 456) that
' ' The bearing and the training of a child
Is woman's wisdom."
Nor does it appear that he ever changed his mind. What he
thought of the lovely ideals of his son and his daughter-in-law,
when they had once succeeded in coming to an understanding,
is nowhere told. He probably paid little attention to them;
young people in love, he must , have thought, were certain to
be fools. He can hardly have deemed them good authority
for changing the opinions that had served him for years.
The King is a consistent character thronghout, and he pre¬
sents us always with simple and consistent views. Gama prob¬
ably thought much the same thing, though he allows that
there is something in other ideas (V., 302). Arac also agreed
with him. He loved his sister and wished her to have her own
way: but we can hardly imagine that he had much sympathy
with the ideas themselves, except when she was telling him of
them (V., 275). Cyril also probably had much the same
notion. He had no very serious views on life in general, and
whatever he says of women seems to show that he liked them
to be much as they have always been, very charming creatures
to make love to.
On the other hand, the Princess, Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche
and the whole conception of the college presents quite a di fièr¬
ent view. The old King rather misrepresents it :
XIV
INTRODUCTION
"We hear
You hold the woman is the better man."
IV., 391.
Some such view was the natural form which would be taken
by equality when its demand was denied. Ida really consid"-
ered woman to be the equal of man, but naturally enough, in
making her the equal in general, she makes her often in par¬
ticular cases the superior. Hence Corinna overcoming Pindar
(III., 333), the titanic women demanding their rights of a
dwarf-like Cato (VI., 109). Hence such episodes as that of
the eight daughters of the plow and the herald (Y., 330).
But in reality neither she nor her mouthpiece. Lady Psyche,
has such an idea. The woman is as good as the man, they
think.
They recognize " two beside the hearth, two in the tangled
business of the world" (II., 156), two everywhere. It is true
that so far as we can see they have not thought their idea out
into absolute consistency. Thus it would seem as if marriage
were necessary to society organized upon a dual basis such as
they contemplate. But the weight of the influence at the col¬
lege seems to be opposed to the idea of love, which is the first
necessity of marriage. This was natural enough ; the Princess
had never loved; Blanche and Psyche were widows. Further,
whatever the propriety of love in general, it is manifestly in
the way in an educational institution, and however inconsis¬
tent it may have seemed with the general theory, it was doubt¬
less a policy of practical expediency to exclude it.
The Princess held
" that with equal husbandry
The woman were an equal to the man."
L, 139.
Such is Gama's report, and that it was substantially correct
we may judge from the Princess's own words when she speaks
of her mission being
INTRODUCTION
XV
" to lift ■woman's fall'n divinity
Upon an even pedestal with man."
III., 207, 208.
And if equal to man, it was to be added that they were also
independent : " Sphered whole in ourselves and owed to
none," are the Princess's words.
Such a claim for woman, however well-founded, is certainly
not overweening. The miracle of women who fell upon her
enemies like a thunderbolt and destroyed them, like the Prin¬
cess who excelled in all the arts and sciences, is exceptional,
like Sappho, Elizabeth, Joan (II., 145-148). The women in
the poem claim only equality; superiority is no part of their
theory.
The Prince would seem the only one to whom the idea of
the superiority of woman occurred as a bit of theory. When
it occurred to him we cannot say, but he gives expression to it
at a time when we may properly wonder whether he had in
mind women in general or one woman in particular. The
Prince thinks that as moral agents (to speak pedantically)
women are far superior to men. Women do need more edu¬
cation, he thinks, for are they not
" truer to the law within ?
Severer in the logic of a life ?
Twice as magnetic to sweet influences
Of earth and heaven ? "
v., 181-184.
Such are the different ideas on the position of woman and
her relation to man that the poem expresses as it proceeds to
the solution which the poet has marked out for it. The old-
time idea of the isolated woman, of the woman who had
become man in her prowess at arms, the modern thought of
supremacy in science and letters, the conventional conception
of woman as the " weaker vessel " whose place was in the
house, the enthusiastic theorists with their view of equal
xvi
INTRODUCTION
rights, the lover's devotion to the ideal loveliness of his mis¬
tress, all these ideas lead ns finally to the poet's own con¬
clusions.
What is that conclusion ? So far as it is explicitly stated,
it is stated by the Prince in his words to Ida when they speak
together in the time following that kiss in which they came
together at the very door, as they thought, of death :
" Woman is not undevelopt man
But diverse;"
man and woman are
" Distinct in individualities."
But each can learn much from the other, each needs develop¬
ment to the fulness of its power, and complete development
can come to each only by gaining somewhat from the other.
A noble and inspiring idea, surely, and put in very beauti¬
ful and inspiriting words, a little vague, perhaps, and, I think
it must be said, save for its prophetic forecast (VII., 263-280),
by no means new. There are many who could say with the
Princess, "A dream that once was mine." By no means
the worse for not being new, however; in fact, by all means the
better for being such as many have before felt and thought.
Such as it is, it is quite clearly the main idea of the poem, the
poet's idea, the solution offered to the question propounded in
the Prologue by the example of the Amazonian ancestor, and
by the words of Lilia.
We cannot see the full working out of this idea, however,
unless we notice also another thought which was almost always
important with Tennyson, and which he here combines with
the ideas of which we have been speaking in such a way that
to disentangle them makes each incomplete.
It will be noticed that Ida in many places—indeed, wherever
there is chance—lays stress on the importance of knowledge.
INTRODUCTION
xvii
Such would be the natural view of one who withdrew from
court to found a university. Her father speaks of it first:
" Knowledge, so my daughter held,
Was all in all." I., 134.
She herself never goes quite so far: "Knowledge is knowl¬
edge," says she (III., 299) of a school of anatomy, yet in spite
of that " the matter hangs." Still it is evident that she looks
to knowledge, to the intellect and its cultivation, as the means
of carrying out her great mission : by knowledge is woman to
be raised to an even pedestal with man. To knowledge she
looks as the great power in life, and at the end it is not till
" A greater than all knowledge beat her down " (VII., 223)
that she gave up her old ideas and began to learn new ones.
It is clear that Tennyson in " The Princess," besides giving
us his ideas on the position of woman and her true relation to
man, wishes also to give us his view of knowledge, intellectual
attainment, education, science in and for itself.
The reader of Tennyson will remember that this idea was
not infrequently in his mind; still, although Tennyson, not a
learned man, was yet a man of scholarly attainment, he rarely
presents us with the idea save in some way that shows us his
firm belief that knowledge in itself is not the greatest thing
in the world, and that it will not do to trust to it altogether.
So later, when arranging the symbolism of " The Idylls of the
King," he presented the soul of man by King Arthur, and
the intellect by Merlin, the aid and helper of the King but
not the King himself. And even so Merlin is represented in
the poem as deceived and betrayed, and lost to use aud of no
further avail, by some power vastly inferior to himself,' or, in
lit may be pointed out that " Vivien " was written before the symbolism of the
" Idylls " was thought of. This is true ; but the lines added at the beginning in 1873
and the episode of Vivien, with the song, in "Balin and Balan," show that Tennyson
gave her a place in his idea even after he had determined on the symbolism. Just what
place is a nice point.
xviii
INTRODUCTION
other words, it is not by the intellect, the reason alone, that
the soul of man is to be saved, but by other powers as well and
in other ways. Much the same idea occurs in "In Memo-
riam " (to note only Tennyson's greatest poems), written before
the "Idylls" but after "The Princess." There, not to cite
many passages, the poet writes near the beginning
" We have but faith : we cannot know,
For knowledge is of things we see ;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness ; let it grow.
" Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell
That mind and soul, according well.
May make one music as before.
"But vaster."
Thus it is not remarkable that throughout " The Princess "
Tennyson should generally speak of knowledge in itself,
knowledge viewed without any further purpose, in rather
a slighting way. In the Prologue, where we may find many
of the ideas of the poem hinted at, he speaks of the way " the
patient leaders of their Institute taught " the multitude " with
facts," which facts he notes, showing by the elaborately poetic
way in which he describes tbem the scientific value they had
in his mind. So throughout the poem, though knowledge
and learning are never spoken of as valueless, there is often
present a slight touch of satire on those who overvalue it, as
did the Princess and all her professors.
He does not mean that the intellect, that education, is with¬
out its value^he puts in the mouth of the Prince just the
contrary idea (V., 180 )—but he does mean that it is not by
intellectual attainment that woman will reach her perfect
development. And an appreciation of the notion is necessary
to an understanding of two matters which Tennyson himself
INTRODUCTION
xix
regarded as of particular importance in the poem—namely,
the part played by the child Aglaia, and the songs between
the cantos.
The child Tennyson somewhere spoke of as really " the hero
of the poem." This, however, was merely a way of indicating
that the child was not a mere matter of indifferent detail, but
an important influence in determining the course of the action,
ïiaturally the child, being a girl, could hardly have been the
hero, according to the ordinary use of language, nor could
Tennyson have meant that she was the heroine, or of more im¬
portance than the Princess. What he did mean perhaps was
that the child was the representative in the poem of a most
important element in life, namely, the emotional, that of the
affections, of the heart. That, at any rate, is the silent part
played by Aglaïa; silently she influences the Princess and in¬
duces her to give up more and more her intellectual weapons,
until finally she is ready for other things. At first the child
appears as rather a discordant, incongruous element. Even
Tennyson could not have thought that the picture of a learned
professor lecturing with a child in a cradle by her was other
than humorous. But though lightly introduced, the child
soon becomes the centre of keenly pathetic situations, as of
Psyche in the tent (V., 60-106) and of the Princess in the
lists (VI., 113-198), and here the evident purpose of the poet
is to show the power of the heart over these two intellectual-
ists. The Princess and Psyche, who thought that knowledge
was all, feel moved by a force that they do not understand.
But especially is it the Princess who feels the power; on
Psyche's flight she is curiously attracted to the baby, fondles
it and keeps it with her, would keep it even away from its
mother. And herein, without knowing it, she shows that she
as well as every one else is as much influenced by the heart and
the affections as by the intellect alone. She is unwilling to
be a wife, but she unconsciously feels something of the charm
of being a mother.
XX
INTRODUCTION
This other element in life, then, the non-intellectual, the
feelings, afEections, emotions—we have many names, none of
which entirely carry the idea we readily enough feel the force
of—this other element which finally wins a place over the in¬
tellectual in the mind of the Princess, is indicated by the child
Aglaia. Another indication of the same thing was given by
the poet in the songs between the cantos. These did not appear
until the third edition; but Tennyson, in speaking of them,
says that they were no afterthought, that he had thought of
them from the first. Probably he could not quite bring him¬
self to the point of writing them, although he felt that they
ought to be there. Then when the poem appeared he saw that
they ought to be there, and was most fortunately able to write
them. They are certainly most charming pieces, and some of
them have become very famous. They are connected with the
poem, not, as a rule, by their thought as is the case with the
poems in cantos IV., 75 and VII., 177, but their general feel¬
ing. Thus the song between cantos one and two is of an
episode in the life of two persons who have no connection at
all with the poem. But it illustrates the power of the natural
afEections, and thus comes appropriately just before that canto
which describes the intellectualism of the Princess at its height.
The song between cantos five and six, with its warrior and
his wife, its nurse and child has not, so far as its incident is
concerned, any connection with the poem. The situation of
canto six is something quite difEerent. But the poem illus¬
trates the emotion of the Princess when she gives the child to
Psyche. It must be remembered that the facts conveyed in
a lyric poem are not the matters of importance: it is the
mood, the sentiment, that is the real thing. The sentiment
of these songs will be found to harmonize with the poem in
the places where they occur, and to harmonize in an especial
way.
Two of them, the " Bugle Song " and " Ask Me no More,"
may be said to grow out of the situation more than do the
INTRODUCTION
xxi
others. The four others all have for a subject some variation
on the theme of parental love. In the first the remembrance
of a dead child reconciles a husband and wife after a quarrel.
The third is a lullaby. The fourth is but a snatch, but its
idea is the strengthening power of the thought of the family.
The fifth indicates the power of maternal love to give relief
in great sorrow.
That is to say, while the men were engaged in representing
a university of women, devoted absolutely to the pursuit of
learning only, to the cultivation of the intellect, the women
of the party were singing songs inspired by the power of the
affections. We have in another form the same infiuence as is
typified in the poem by the child Aglaia.
Thus Tennyson in this curious medley of a poem manages
to discuss ideas of the deepest importance, and discusses them
in a truly poetic way. It is not by having one character or
another elaborate his ideas in philosophic speeches (though
that occurs once or twice), but by the very idea and develop¬
ment of the story itself. The ideas, though here and there
definitely expressed and set down, as at the end of canto
seven, are yet on the whole implicit in the poem itself, in its
action, in its characters, in its structure and interpolated
songs. It is certainly not a philosophic poem, but it is moulded
and formed by philosophic ideas, using the term in a broad
sense, by ideas which must have some place deep in anybody's
philosophy of life.
Tlie Language and the Meter.
A few words should be added upon Tennyson's mode of ex¬
pression, on his language and its poetical and metrical char¬
acter. A poet's form is not as valuable as a poet's thought,
we may say, but it is, as a rule, by its beauty of form that
the poet's ideas gain and keep a place with us. Tennyson is
the great master of the nineteenth century in the art of heauti-
xxii
INÏBODUCTION
ful poetic expression. We should know some of his chief char¬
acteristics, that we may understand everything and not miss
anything that we might appreciate.
And first as to his language.' We shall notice, as doing
something to give character to the poem, a sprinkling of
archaic or obsolescent words. In canto one we find grandsire,
1. C ; puissance, 36 ; rent, 60 ; ere, 100 ; tilth, 109 ; hostel,
171 ; tide, 194 ; guerdon, 201, and others as obvious. This
touch of archaism is in keeping with the half-presumed period
of the poem, which, of course, belongs to no definite time in
the world's history, hut generally to the period of kings and
knights, of chivalry and tournament. Besides archaic words
there are a few obsolete inflections, as sware, 62 ; spahe, 118 ;
holp, 198, and some obsolete constructions, as were for the
modern would te, 130, 155 and elsewhere. There are also, a
few classical locutions, sometimes of word as in the par¬
ticiples current, II., 227, transient, Y., 37, which mean not
what the words now mean, but what the Latin participles
mean from which they are derived ; sometimes of construc¬
tion, as in the partitive genitive, "no more of deadly lurks
within," II., 208.
These are hardly difficulties to any one with a little reading.
A little more attention is demanded by some of the construc¬
tions. In general the sentences are concisely put when it
comes to facts, and sometimes crowded with clauses. An ex¬
ample of the first is the sentence II., 101-108, which expresses
an immense deal concisely and simply; of the latter, II., 47-52,
where, although there is no difficulty of understanding, there
are a number of dependent clauses.
There are one or two means of gaining conciseness that
Tennyson uses a good deal. One of them is the use of abso¬
lute constructions:
" Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen,
Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame,
May rue the bargain made." I., 71-73.
INTEODUCTION
xxiii
The last words are illustrative of another mode of construc¬
tion, rather a favorite with Tennyson—namely, the use of the
participle :
" He, dying lately, left her, as I hear.
The lady of three castles in that land." I., 77, 78.
" Some sorcerer ....
. . . had foretold,
Dying, that none of all our blood should know
The shadow from the substance.", I., 6-9.
The real importance of a study of these grammatical mat¬
ters lies in the fact that unless we look closely at one of these
long, crowded sentences we are likely to get but a vague idea
of it, even if we do not lose a good deal of what Tennyson
meant to put there. A little accurate grammatical analysis
may be useful in order that we may be sure of a real familiar¬
ity with these modes of speech. At first some of them may
seem a little crabbed, but when we accustom ourselves to them
we pass them, not unnoticing to he sure, but without any feel¬
ing of strangeness.
But one must not spend too much time upon such matters,
particularly at first. ISTow and then comes a passage that
needs a little thought, a little grammatical analysis even. But
in general it is best to read on without much regard to these
matters. One point, a little technical, should be attended to,
however—namely, the meter.
Tennyson is a great master of the art of poetic meter, and
in this poem he gives himself occasion to use a number of dif¬
ferent metrical forms. The greater part of the poem is in
blank verse, but the songs are in a variety of lyric forms.
Lyric meter in English is not a matter of rule or even of
convention. A number of what may be called regular lyrical
forms'exist, as, for instance, ballad meter, or the meter used
in "In Memoriam"; hut these forms are not very definitely
thought of, and often enough (as in the last case) they are not
xxiv
INTRODUCTION
even named. On the other hand, the number of extempore
meters, as we may call them, is very great, cases where the
mood of the poet has led him into some particular forms for
which there is no original. Such is the case with the songs
in " The Princess." The first song (p. 18) has for a basis the
common eight-syllable and four-line stanza, with the second
and fourth line rhyming. But Tennyson varies it a little by
repeating a refrain in each stanza, by running three stanzas
into one by a common rhyme, and by practically repeating the
third line in the first and last stanzas. All of these expedi¬
ents are well-known lyric artifices, the common rhyme is very
frequent in Old French forms, the repetition is not uncom¬
mon and is perhaps best known to us in the poetry of Poe.
If one reads the poem, it is eásy to see what distinction and
character are given to it by these devices. They give some¬
thing of the effect of variations on a musical phrase ; there is
a constant sense of likeness and difference. Compare the four¬
teen lines with three stanzas of the ordinary metrical structure
and you will understand something of Tennyson's technical
power. Some of the same metrical means are employed in
the next song—repetition of word, line, rhyme and refrain
—these go far to give the wholly charming character of the
" Slumber Song." The songs within the cantos are without
rhyme, perhaps on account of their place within the blank
verse, but in the " Bugle Song " we have what are called mid¬
line rhymes in the first and third lines of each stanza, while
the long lines at the ends in couplet form give a sort of addi¬
tion to the stanza that harmonizes with the idea. Such de¬
vices are by no means all of the poetic art in the songs, even
of the metrical art, but they are among the most obvious of
Tennyson's touches, and serve to give us something of an idea
of the way the lyric poet will make his poetic forms serve him
in helping to express the ideas that are singing in his head.
Tennyson is quite as fortunate in his handling of blank
verse as he is with lyrical measures. The basis of blank verse.
INTRODÜOTIOÍT
XXV
as of lyric measures, lies in the repetition of accented and un¬
accented syllables. In blank verse there are normally five
accented and five unaccented syllables coming alternately, the
line beginning with the latter. A normal line, for instance, is
"His name was Grama; craok'd and small his voice." I., 113.
But the constant repetition of such lines, all exactly the same,
■would become, in a long poem, sing-song and monotonous.
To vary it the poet makes slight changes which will not break
the general recurrence of the accent, both in the number of
syllables, in the place of the accent and in the ordering of
pauses. But because variations without reason would be in
itself but a disordered monotony, Tennyson generally tries to
make his alterations significant. Thus in theline
" Two in the tangled business of the world " (II., 157)
the accent comes on the first syllable instead of the second.
This reversal of accent, this variation from what is usual, gives
a slight emphasis, which is just what the thought of the line
needs. In the same way the accent comes sometimes on the
third, fifth or seventh syllable, generally with the result of
harmonious emphasis.
At other times the poet will write one or two additional
syllables in his line: to pronounce them rhythmically we must
hurry our utterance a little. Such lines give movement, as
"Where the river sloped
To plunge in cataract, shattering on black blocks
A breadth of thunder." III., 273-275.
Here in the words cataract, shattering, each brings in an extra
syllable, doing something to give the hurry of the waters. Im¬
mediately afterward, instead of having alternate accent and no
accent, we have two unaccented syllables and two accented.
The two accents coming together, ilach llocTcs, have what we
may call a heavy sound quite appropriate to the idea.
xxvi
INTRODUCTION
The variation, of pauses is less easy to illustrate by detached
examples, but a very little reading will show how much more
natural and musical is the verse with varied pause than it
could be if the pause came with regularity at the end of each
line or somewhere in the middle.
Tennyson's Pictorial Quality.
These are some of the metrical characteristics of the poet's art.
They seem very slight when we read the poem and notice the
constant efEect of alliteration, of vowel melody, of approxima¬
tion of sound to sense, as well as the variation of poetic figure
and scope, but they will serve as a sort of introduction to the
study of poetic form.
There is one other matter, more important than language
or meter, and that is the general poetic character. A man
might use archaic words and metaphoric terms and many
metrical devices, and yet have nothing essentially poetical in
his way of writing. What is Tennyson's particular poetic
characteristic ?
Two poetic qualities were particularly noticed in Tennyson's
poetry at the very first. One was the power of melody and
harmony of verse, of which something has already been said.
The other was his pictorial quality or, more correctly, his
power of presenting his thoughts in pictures. All poets have
something of this power ; they see things in the concrete.
But Tennyson had it in a very great degree. Some of his
poems are full of actual pictures, as " The Palace of Art"; all
present things always in, we might say, the painter's way.
Thus the power of woman in history is put before us in a series
of statues in canto two ; the sentiment of night is given us in
a series of most lovely pictures in the poem which Ida is read¬
ing in canto seven. Prom these more general pictorial pres¬
entations down to single words, as when the "court-Galen
poised his cane," I., 19, or when one spoke "beneath his
INTRODUCTION
xxvii
vaulted palm," IV., 30, there is a constant series of pictorial
expressions of all kinds. We might almost say that nowhere
can we read a dozen lines without coming upon something
that appeals distinctly to our delight in seeing beautiful things.
Sometimes it is on a large scale, as we may say, thp beautiful
effect of the crowd of girls in their silken college gowns, II.,
411 folk, or of the vesper gathering under the chapel organ,
II., 446 folk; sometimes it is in a single figure, often actually
studied by the poet from nature, as in IV., 236^ or/I., 244.
All poets speak in images, and so does Tennyson ; but few
have, besides the imaginative power which constantly brings
figurative expressions to mind, so much power in calling up
really pictorial representation which will appeal to the inward
eye. )i
Suggestions for Study.
The preceding pages give rather suggestions for the student
than a thorough study of the poem. A few questions are here
added which rise naturally from the subjects considered, and
which may, in general, be answered on reading the part of
the poem referred to. Such questions may be used in class
reading, for essay subjects, for talks or lectures by the teacher,
for examinations, or in other ways that will occur to any one
who has had experience in dealing with classes in English
Literature.
I. What is there of mixture in "The Princess" that it
should be called a " Medley " ? What has the Prologue to do
with the rest of the poem ? What the Conclusion ? What
ideas of the Prologue are developed in the poem, and how ?
Give the story of the poem in a few words.
II. What are the main characteristics of the Princess ? Of
the Prince ? What was there about Florian that made him
dearer to the Prince than Cyril ? Which of the two kings
was the wiser ruler ? Which the better husband ?
III. What was the view of woman taken by the Princess ?
xxviii
INTRODUCTION
By the old King ? To what opinion does the poem tend ?
How is it indicated before canto VII.? What does Tennyson
think of the idea that woman will come to her right by intel¬
lectual culture ? Where does he express his view ? What has
the child .Aglaia to do with the poem ? Find what the Prin¬
cess has to say of children and of the child ? What have the
songs to do with the poem ? Explain the appropriateness of
each to the place where it occurs.
IV. Kote some archaic words besides those on p. xxii. Some
archaic inflections. Constructions. What is the effect of such
archaism ? Give examples of some of Tennyson's favorite con¬
structions.
V. Bead the songs with correct appreciation of rhyme and
rhythm. Find examples of the normal or regular form of
blank verse. Of reversal or change of accent (trochaic foot).
Of occurrence of additional unaccented syllables (anapaestic
feet). Of two accents together (spondaic foot following a
pyrrhic).
VI. Find illustration of Tennyson's pictorial power in his
allusions to the architecture of the Woman's University. In
his descriptions of the Princess. In pictorial uses of single
words. In longer similes or metaphors. In his presentation
of events or characters.
Important Dates in Tennyson s Life.
1809. August 6. Born at Somersby, Lincolnshire.
1827. " Poems by Two Brothers/' by Alfred Tennyson and
his brother Charles.
1828. Goes to Trinity College, Cambridge.
1829. Wins the Chancellor's Medal for a poem entitled
"Timbuctoo."
1830. " Poems, Chiefly Lyrical."
1832. " Poems " (" The Lady of Shalott and Other Poems ").
1842. "Poems" (a revision of earlier poems and "English
Idylls ").
INTEODÜCTION
XXIX
1847. " The Princess."
1850. "In Memoriam." In this year also Tennyson was
married, and on the death of Wordsworth was made
Poet Laureate.
1855. " Maud and Other Poems."
1859. " The Idylls of the King. " There were first published
four Idylls only; eight others were added at various
times. The poem was not completed until 1885.
1875. " Queen Mary." In later life Tennyson wrote a num¬
ber of dramas, of which the most important besides
this are "Harold," 1877, and "Becket," 1884.
1884. Created Baron of Aldworth and-Paringford.
1892. " The Death of Œnone, Akbar's Dream and Other
Poems." This was the last volume published by
the poet : we have not noted above all those of his
later years.
1892. October 7th. Died. He was buried in Westminster
Abbey.
THE PRmCESS:
A MEDLEY.
prologttb.'
Sie Waltee Viviaít all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
Up to the people." Thither flock'd at noon
His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
5 The neighboring borough, with their Institute"
Of which he was the patron. I was there
From college, visiting the son,—the son
A Walter too,—with others of our set,—
Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place.
10 And me that morning Walter show'd the house,
Greek,* set with busts; from vases in the hall
Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names,"
Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay
Carv'd stones of the abbey ruin in the park,
15 Huge ammonites,' and the first bones of time;
And on the tables every clime and age
Jumbled together,—celts ' and calumets,
^ The Prologue gives us an idea of the subject of the poem in 11. 32-48, 127—
151, 220-235.
^ He was landlord to the country people and patron of the townspeople.
An institution for improvement or instruction.
* in architectural style.
^ though long botanical namej may have their own beauty.
® great fossil fishes. pre-historic ax-heads.
2
THE PRINCESS
[Prologue
Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans
Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,
20 Laborious orient ivory, sphere in sphere,'
The curs'd Malayan crease, and battle clubs
Prom the isles of palm ; and higher on the walls.
Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer.
His own forefathers' arms and armor hung.
25 And " This," he said, " was Hugh's at Agincourt; '
And that was old Sir Ealph's at Ascalon,'—
A good knight he ! we keep a chronicle
With all about him,"—which he brought, and I
Div'd in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights,
30 Half legend, half historic, counts and kings
Who laid about them at their wills and died;
And mixt with these, a lady; * one that arm'd
Her own fair head, and, sallying thro' the gate.
Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls.
35 " 0 miracle of women," said the book,
" 0 noble heart who, being strait-besieg'd
By this wild king to force her to his wish,
Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunn'd a soldier's death.
But now, when all was lost or seem'd as lost,—
40 Her stature more than mortal in the burst
Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire,—
Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate.
And, falling on them like a thunderbolt.
She trampled some beneath her horses' heels,
45 And some were whelm'd with missiles of the wall.
And some were push'd with lances from the rock,
^ carved ivory from the Far East.
^ the famous victory of the English under Henry V. over the French in 1415.
® during the Crusades.
* very different from the Princess, yet suggesting her.
Prologue]
A MEDLEY
3
And part were drown'd within the whirling brook.
0 miracle of noble womanhood! "
So sang the gallant, glorious chronicle;
50 And, I all rapt in' this, " Come out," he said,
" To the abbey; there is aunt Elizabeth
And sister Lilia with the rest." We went
(I kept the book and had my finger in it)
Down thro' the park. Strange was the sight to me;
55 Eor all the sloping pasture murmur'd, sown
With happy faces and with holiday.
There mov'd the multitude, a thousand heads;
The patient leaders of their Institute
Taught them with facts.'' One rear'd a font of sfone,
60 And drew, from butts of Water on the slope.
The fountain of the mordent, playing now
A twisted snake, and now a rain of pearls.
Or steep-up spout, whereon the gilded ball
Danc'd like a wisp. And somewhat lower down
65 A man with knobs and wires and vials ' fired
A cannon ; Echo answer'd in her sleep
From hollow fields. And here were telescopes
For azure views; and there a group of girls
In circle waited, whom the electric shock
70 Dislink'd with shrieks and laughter. Eound the lake
A little clockwork steamer paddling plied.
And shook the lilies; perch'd about the knolls
A dozen angry models jetted steam;
A petty railroad ran; a fire balloon
75 Rose gemlike up before the dusky groves
And dropt a fairy parachute and past; '
And there thro' twenty posts of telegraph
They flashed a saucy message to and fro
^ enraptured with. ^ Perhaps Tennyson is a little satiric.
^ an electric battery. ^ went away : a favorite word of Tennyson's.
4
THE PRINCESS
[Prologue
Between the mimic stations; so that sport
80 Went hand in hand with science; otherwhere
Pure sport : a herd of boys with clamor bowl'd
And stump'd" the wicket; babies roll'd about
Like tumbled fruit in grass; and men and maids
Arrang'd a country dance, and flew thro' light
85 And shadow, while the twangling yiolin
Struck up with " Soldier-laddie," ' and OTerhead
The broad ambrosial aisles of lofty lime '
Made noise with bees and breeze from end to end.
Strange was the sight and smacking of the time;
90 And long we gaz'd, but satiated at length
Came to the ruins. High-arch'd and ivy-claspt.
Of finest Gothic, lighter than a flre,'
Thro' one wide chasm of time and frost they gave
The park, the crowd, the house; but all within
95 The sward was trim as any garden lawn.
And here we lit on aunt Elizabeth,
And Lilia with the rest, and lady friends
From neighbor seats; and there was Ealph himself,
A broken statue propt against the wall,
100 As gay as any. Lilia, wild with sport.
Half child, half woman as she was, had wound
A scarf of orange round the stony helm.
And rob'd the shoulders in a rosy silk.
That made the old warrior from his ivied nook
105 Glow like a sunbeam. Hear his tomb a feast "
Shone, silver-set; about it lay the guests,
And there we join'd them. Then the maiden aunt
Took this fair day for text, and from it preach'd
An universal culture for the crowd,
' at cricket. " favorite song. ° lime tree or linden.
^ The stone arches were so high and fine that they looked light.
® It was a sort of picnic lunch.
Prologue]
A MEDLEY
5
110 And all things great; but we, unworthier, told
Of coUege: he ' had climb'd across the spikes.
And he had squeez'd himself betwixt the bars.
And he had breath'd the proctor's dogs; ' and one
Discuss'd his tutor, rough to common men,
115 But honeying at the whisper of a lord ;
And one the master,' as a rogue in grain
Veneer'd with sanctimonious theory.
But while they talk'd, above their heads I saw
The feudal warrior lady-clad, which brought
130 My book to mind; and opening this I read
Of old Sir Ealph a page or two that rang
"With tilt and tourney; then the tale of her
That drove her foes with slaughter from her walls.
And much I prais'd her nobleness; and " "Where,"
125 Ask'd Walter, patting Lilia's head (she lay
Beside him), " lives there such a woman now ? "
Quick answer'd Lilia: " There are thousands now
Such women, but convention beats them down;
It is but bringing up, no more than that.
130 You men have done it—how I hate you all!
Ah, were I something great! I wish I were
Some mighty poetess,' I would shame you then.
That love to keep us children! ' Oh, I wish
That I were some great princess, I would build
185 Far off from men a college like a man's,'
And I would teach them all that men are taught;
^ One of Walter's college friends.
2 The proctors are officers of the English universities, charged with various duties
and, among other things, with matters of discipline. They have assistants called, in
student slang, bull-dogs.
® The heads of the different colleges in an English university are called Masters.
^ It is significant of a change in our way of looking at things that the word
•• poetess " is no longer much used.
® Cf. 1.136. ® The suggestion of the story.
6
THE PRINCESS
[Prologue
We are twice as quick ! " And here she shook aside
The hand that play'd the patron with her curls.
And one said smiling: " Pretty were the sight
140 If our old halls could change their sex, and flaunt
With prudes for proctors, dowagers for deans,
And sweet girl graduates in their golden hair.'
I think they should not wear our rusty gowns,'
But move as rich as emperor-moths, or Ealph
145 Who shines so in the corner; yet I fear.
If there were many Lilias in the brood.
However deep you might embower the nest.
Some boy would spy it."
At this upon the sward
She tapt her tiny silken-sandal'd foot :
150 " That's your light way; but I would make it death
For any male thing but to peep at us.'
Petulant she spoke, and at herself she laugh'd;
A rosebud set with little willful thorns.
And sweet as English air could make her, she;
155 But Walter hail'd a score of names upon her.
And "petty ogress," and "ungrateful puss,"
And swore he long'd at college, only long'd—
All else was well—for she-society.
They boated and they cricketed; they talk'd
160 At wine, in clubs, of art, of politics;
They lost their weeks; ' they vexed the souls of deans;
They rode; they betted; made a hundred friends.
And caught the blossom of the flying terms.
But miss'd the mignonette of Vivian-place,
^ Many such sights may now be seen, and have, indeed, a great charm.
® When they wear gowns nowadays, they are as black as the men's.
® Cf. 11., 178.
* Failed to be in Cambridge enough weeks to count this or that term.
Piíologüe]
A MEDLEY
7
165 The little hearth-flower Lilia. Thus he spoke.
Part banter, part affection.
" True," she said,
" We doubt not that. 0 yes, you miss'd us much.
I'll stake my ruby ring upon it you did. "
She held it out; and as a parrot turns
170 Up thro' gilt wires a crafty, loving eye.
And takes a lady's flnger with all care.
And bites it for true heart and not for harm.
So he with Lilia's. Daintily she shriek'd.
And wrung it. " Doubt my word again! " he said.
175 " Oome, listen! here is proof that you were miss'd:
We seven stay'd at Christmas up to read; '
And there we took one tutor, as to read.
The hard-grain'd muses of the cube and square'
Were out of season; never man, I think,
180 So molder'd in a sinecure as he;
For while our cloisters echo'd frosty feet.
And our long walks were stript as bare as brooms.
We did but talk you over, pledge you all
In wassail; often, like as many girls,—
185 Sick for the hollies and the yews of home,—
As many little trifling Lilias,—play'd
Charades and riddles as at Christmas here.
And what's my thought and when and where and how,
And often told a tale from mouth to mouth
190 As here at Christmas."
She remember'd that;
A pleasant game, she thought; she lik'd it more
Than magic music, forfeits, all the rest.
But these,—what kind of tales did men tell men.
She wonder'd, by themselves ?
^ Stayed at the university to study.
2 Tßijnyßpn's univer^it^ js more devoted to mathematics than Oxford.
8
THE PEINOESS
[Pkologub
A half-disdain
195 Perch'd on the pouted blossom of her lips;
And Walter nodded at me: "He began;
The rest would follow, each in turn; and so
We forg'd a sevenfold story. Kind ? what kind?
Chimeras, crotchets, Christmas solecisms,'
200 Seven-headed monsters only made to kill
Time by the fire in winter."
" Kill him now.
The tyrant! kill him in the summer too,"
Said Lilia. " Why not now ? " the maiden aunt.
" Why not a summer's as a winter's tale ? "
205 A tale for summer as befits the time.
And something it should be to fit the place.
Heroic,—for a hero lies beneath,—
Grave, solemn! "
Walter warp'd his mouth at this
To something so mock-solemn that I laugh'd,
210 And Lilia woke with sudden-shrilling mirth
An echo like a ghostly woodpecker.
Hid in the ruins; till the maiden aunt
(A little sense of wrong had touch'd her face
With color) turn'd to me with: "As you will;
215 Heroic if you will, or what you will.
Or be yourself your hero if you will."
" Take Lilia, then, for heroine," clamor'd he,
"And make her some great princess, six feet high.
Grand, epic, homicidal ; and be you
220 'The prince to win her!
" Then follow me, the prince," '
I answer'd; "each be a hero in his turn!
' out-of-the-way things. ' The allusion is to the play of Shakespeare.
' The idea of the story grows in the lines following; but, as we shall see, the original
ideas take various forms.
Cakto i.]
A MEDLEY
9
Seven and yet one, like shadows in a dream.
Heroic seems our princess as requir'd,
But something made to suit with time and place,
225 A Gothic ruin and a Grecian house,
A talk of college and of ladies' rights,
A feudal knight in silken masquerade.
And, yonder, shrieks and strange experiments
For which the good Sir Ralph had burnt them all,—
230 This were a medley! ' we should have him back
Who told the ' Winter's Tale ' to do it for us.
Ho matter; we will say whatever comes.
And let the ladies sing us, if they will.
Prom time to time, some ballad, or a song,
235 To give us breathing space."
So I began.
And the rest follow'd ; and the women sang
Between the rougher voices of the men.
Like linnets in the pauses of the wind.
And here I give the story and the songs.'
CANTO I.
A Prince I was, blue-eyed, and fair of face.
Of temper amorous ' as the first of May,*
With lengths of yellow ringlet, like a girl.
For on my cradle shone the Northern star.
5 There liv'd an ancient legend * in our house :
Some sorcerer, whom a far-off grandsire burnt
* Hence the second title.
2 The songs between the cantos were not in the first edition of the poem.
® The Prince was given to lover's dreams and fancies rather than to the hot vio¬
lence of passion.
^ The first of May was the great time for lovers. Read Herrick's Corinna's going
a-maying.
® An old story ; but notice how much more fitting are the other words to the poetic
tone.
10
THE PRINCESS
[Canto I.
Because he cast no shadow, had foretold.
Dying, that none of all our blood should know
The shadow ' from the substance, and that one
10 Should come to fight with shadows and to fall;
Dor so, my mother said, the story ran.
And, truly, waking dreams were, more or less.
An old and strange affection of the house.
Myself, too, had weird seizures. Heaven knows what:
15 On a sudden, in the midst of men and day.
And while I walk'd and talk'd as heretofore,
I seem'd to move among a world of ghosts,"
And feel myself the shadow of a dream."
Our great court-Galen ' pois'd his gilt-head cane,
20 And paw'd ' his beard, and mutter'd, " Catalepsy."
My mother, pitying, made a thousand prayers;
My mother was as mild as any saint.
Half canoniz'd ° by all that look'd on her.
So gracious was her tact and tenderness.
25 But my good father thought a king a king;'
He car'd not for the affection of the house;
He held his scepter like a pedant's wand,"
To lash offense, and with long arms and hands
Eeach'd out, and pick'd offenders from the mass
30 For judgment.
^ By shadow Tennyson hints at idealism, just as he does in Garetk and Lynette
(11. 260—262), where Merlin says of Camelot and King Arthur;
" For there is in it nothing as it seems
Saving the King ; though there be some that hold
The King a shadow, and the city real."
^ Ghosts, dreams, shadows, the words are meant to put before us the unbodied
feelings of one who is a prey to the ideal.
^ The phrase is a reminiscence of Hamlet (II., iL, 265) but used with a slightly
different meaning.
^ The name of one great physician put for the class, as we say a Croesus, a Her¬
cules, a Solon." ® The word is disrespectful.
® almost made a saint of.
''^The first note of the character of the king. Cf. Introd. p. xiii.
® a euphemism for schoolmaster's rod.
Canto I.]
A MEDLEY
11
Now it chanc'd that I had been,
"While life was yet in bud and blade, betroth'd
To one, a neighboring Princess; she to me
Was proxy-wedded ' with a bootless calf
At eight years old; and still" from time to time
35 Came murmurs of her beauty from the South,
And of her brethren, youths of puissance;
And still I wore her picture by my heart.
And one dark tress; and all around them both
Sweet thoughts would swarm, as bees about their queen.
40 But when the days grew nigh that I should wed.
My father sent ambassadors with furs "
And jewels, gift, to fetch her. These brought back
A present, a great labor of the loom ;
And therewithal an answer vague as wind :
45 Besides, they saw the king; he took the gifts;
He said there was a compact, that was true;
But then she had a will; was he to blame?*
And maiden fancies; lov'd to live alone
Among her women; certain, would not wed.
50 That morning in the presence room" I stood
With Cyril and with Plorian, my two friends:
The first, a gentleman of broken means
(His father's fault), but given to starts and bursts
Of revel; and the last, my other heart,
55 And almost my half-self, for still we mov'd
Together, twinn'd ° as horse's ear and eye.
* Weddings by proxy used to be not uncommon in state marriages. The proxy
took off his boot in the course of the ceremony, and laid his leg on the bed: hence he
is here called bootless.
^ The word is used in the archaic sense, common in Shakespeare, for instance, of
always, so 1. 55 and often. ^ as coming from the north.
^ This gives an idea of the character of the other king.
^ the room where the king gave audience. ® a figurative word.
12
THE PEINCESS
[Canto I.
Now, while they spake, I saw my father's face
Grow long, and troubled like a rising moon,
Inflam'd with wrath. He started on his feet,
60 Tore the king's letter, snow'd it down,' and rent
The wonder of the loom thro' warp and woof
From skirt to skirt; and at the last he sware
That he would send a hundred thousand men.
And bring her in a whirlwind; then he chew'd
65 The thrice-turn'd cud of wrath, and cook'd his spleen,"
Communing with his captains of the war.
At last I spoke: "My father, let me go.
It cannot be but some gross error lies
In this report, this answer of a king
70 Whom all men rate as kind and hospitable; "
Or, maybe, I myself, my bride once seen,
Whate'er my grief to find her less than fame.
May rue the bargain made." And Florian said:
" I have a sister at the foreign court,
75 Who moves about the Princess; she, you know.
Who wedded with a nobleman from thence;
He, dying lately, left her, as I hear.
The lady of three castles in that land.
Thro' her this matter might be sifted clean."
80 And Cyril whispered: " Take me with you, too."
Then, laughing, " What if these weird seizures come
Upon you in those lands, and no one near
To point you out the shadow from the truth !
Take me; I'll serve you better in a strait;
^ the pieces fluttered down like snow.
^ The spleen was anciently (as in Homer, whence this phrase comes) held to ba
the seat of the passions. So in Julivs Caesar (IV., iii., 47) Brutus says:
'* You shall digest the venom of your spleen
Though it do split you."
He might have been, and yet unable to coerce his daughter.
[Canto I.
A MEDLEY
13
85 I grate on rusty hinges here.' But " No! "
Eoar'd the rough king, " you shall not; we ourself
Will crush her pretty maiden fancies dead
In iron gauntlets; break the council up."
But when the council broke, I rose and past
90 Thro' the wild woods that hung about the town.
Found a still place, and pluck'd her likeness out;
Laid it on flowers, and watch'd it lying bath'd
In the green gleam of dewy-tassel'd trees."
What were those fancies ? wherefore break her troth ?
95 Proud look'd her lips; but while I meditated
A wind arose and rush'd upon the South,
And shook the songs, the whispers, and the shrieks
Of the wild woods together; and a Voice
Went with it, "Follow, follow, thou shalt win."
100 Then, ere the silver sickle of that month
Became her golden shield," I stole from court
With Cyril and with Florian, unperceiv'd.
Cat-footed through the town, and half in dread
To hear my father's clamor at our backs,
105 With " Ho! " from some bay window shake the night;
But all was quiet. From the bastion'd walls.
Like threaded spiders," one by one we dropt.
And, flying, reach'd the frontier; then we crest
To a livelier land; and so by tilth and grange,"
110 And vines, and blowing bosks of wilderness.
We gain'd the mother-city," thick with towers.
And in the imperial palace found the king.
^ Note the condensed way of putting the figure.
® One of those very particular pictures of nature that Tennyson is full of: "tas-
seled " means with catkins. ^ again the figure is put in condensed form.
^ going down on ropes as spiders on threads.
® This other country was different in character from the northern land.
® a translation of the Greek word metropolis.
14
THE PRINCESS
[Canto I.
His name was Gama; crack'd and small his voice.
But bland the smile that, like a wrinkling wind
115 On glassy water, drove his cheek in lines;
A little dry old man, without a star,'
Not like a king. Three days he feasted us.
And on the fourth I spake of why we came.
And my betroth'd. " You do us. Prince," he said,
130 Airing a snowy hand and signet gem,
" All honor. We remember love ourself
In our sweet youth. There did a compact pass
Long summers back, a kind of ceremony,—
I think the year in which our olives fail'd. •
135 I would you had her. Prince, with all my heart.
With my full heart; but there were widows here.
Two widows. Lady Psyche, Lady Blanche;
They fed her theories, in and out of place "
Maintaining that with equal husbandry '
130 The woman were ' an equal to the man.
They harp'd on this; with this our banquets rang;
Our dances broke and buzz'd in knots of talk;
Nothing but this; my very ears were hot
To hear them. Knowledge, so my daughter held,
135 Was all in all; ' they had but been, she thought.
As children ; they must lose the child, assume
The woman. Then, sir, awful odes she wrote,—
Too awful, sure, for what they treated of.
But all she is and does is awful, °—odes
140 About this losing of the child; ' and rhymes
And dismal lyrics, prophesying change
Beyond all reason. These the women sang;
^ without the decoration suited to his rank. at all times.
^ thrift and industry. ^ would be: sol. 155. ® See Introd.p.xvii.
® A cause of awe, but only half-serious : in the previous lines the word seems more
colloquial.
This expression has a bearing on the development of the story, though Gama is,
of course, unconscious of it.
CANTO I.] A MEDLEY 15
And they that know such things,—I sought but peace,
No critic I,—would call them masterpieces;
145 They master'd me. At last she begg'd a boon,
A certain summer palace which I have
Hard by your father's frontier. I said " No,"
Yet, being an easy man, gave it; and there.
All wild to found an University
150 For maidens, on the spur she fled; and more
We know not,—only this: they see no men.
Not even her brother Arac, nor the twins.'
Her brethren, the' they love her, look upon her
As on a kind of paragon; and I
155 (Pardon me saying it) were much loath to breed
Dispute betwixt myself and mine. But since
(And I confess with right) you think me bound
In some sort, I can give you letters to her;
And yet, to speak the truth, I rate your chance
160 Almost at naked nothing."
Thus the king;
And I, tho' nettled that he seem'd to slur
With garrulous ease and oily courtesies
Our formal compact, yet, not less, (all frets
But chafing me, ° on firè to find my bride,)
165 Went forth again with both my friends. We rode
Many a long league back to the North. ' At last.
Prom hills that look'd across a land of hope.
We dropt with evening on a rustic town
Set in a gleaming river's crescent curve,
170 Close at the boundary of the liberties;"
There enter'd an old hostel, call'd mine host
To council, plied him with his richest wines.
And show'd the late-writ letters of the king.
' Cf. v., 245.
® Such constructions are rather common in Tennyson's narrative poetry ; they give
conciseness, sometimes obscurity. ® toward the frontier. Cf. 1.147.
^ the old term for the territory in which particular privileges might be enjoyed.
16
THE PRINCESS
[Canto I.
He, witli a long, low sibilation, star'd
175 As blank as death in marble; then exclaim'd,
Ayerring it was clear against all rules
For any man to go ; but as his brain
Began to mellow, if the king, he said.
Had given us letters, was he bound to speak ?
180 The king would bear him out; and at the last,—
The summer of the vine ' in all his veins,—
Ho doubt that we might make it worth his while.
She once had past that way; he heard her speak;
She scar'd him; life! he never saw the like;
185 She look'd as grand as doomsday, and as grave.
And he, he reverenc'd his liege lady there;
He always made a point to post with mares;
His daughter and his housemaid were the boys; "
The land, he understood, for miles about
190 Was till'd by women; all the swine were sows.
And all the dogs—
But while he jested thus,
A thought flashed thro' me which I cloth'd in act,
Eemembering how we three presented Maid,
Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high tide of feast,
195 In mask or pageant, at my father's court.
We sent mine host to purchase female gear;
He brought it, and himself, a sight to shake
The midriff of Despair with laughter, holp '
To lace us up, till, each, in maiden plumes
200 We rustled. Him we gave a costly bribe
To guerdon * silence, mounted our good steeds.
And boldly ventured on the liberties.
^ Cf. The Marriage of Geraini 398.
"For now the wine made summer in his veins "
^ post-boys.
^ reward, but commonly a noun.
obsolete past tense.
Canto I.]
A MEDLEY
17
We follow'd up the river as we rode,
And rode till midnight, when the college lights
305 Began to glitter fireflylike in copse
And linden alley ; then we past an arch.
Whereon a woman-statue rose with wings
From four wing'd horses dark against the stars;
And some inscription ran along the front,
310 But deep in shadow. Further on we gain'd
A little street, half garden and half house;
But scarce could hear each other speak for noise
Of clocks and chimes, like silver hammers falling
On silver anvils, and the splash and stir
315 Of fountains spouted up and showering down
In meshes of the jasmine and the rose;
And all about us peal'd the nightingale,
Eapt in her song, and careless of the snare.
There stood a bust of Pallas ' for a sign,
330 By two sphere lamps blazon'd like heaven and earth
With constellation and with continent,^
Above an entry.® Biding in, we call'd;
A plump-arm'd ostleress and a stable wench ■■
Came running at the call, and help'd us down.
335 Then stept a buxom hostess forth, and sail'd.
Full-blown, before us into rooms which gave "
Upon a pillar'd porch, the bases " lost
In laurel. Her we ask'd of that and this,
And who were tutors.' " Lady Blanche," she said,
330 " And Lady Psyche." " Which was prettiest,
Best-natured?" " Lady Psyche." " Hers are we,"
^ The Greek Goddess of Wisdom. Of. Œnone, 11. 84. 135-164.
^ painted with maps of heaven and earth.
3 entrance. ^ Everything masculine becomes feminine.
® opened: a Gallicism. of the pillars.
In the English universities each student enrolls himself with a tutor, who has
some sort of oversight or control over him.
18
THE PßllSrOESS
[Canto I.
One voice, we cried ; and I sat down and wrote.
In such a hand as when a field of corn
Bows all its ears before the roaring East: '
235 " Three ladies of the northern empire ' pray
Your Highness would enroll them with your own.
As Lady Psyche's pupils.
This I seal'd;
The seal was Cupid bent above a scroll.
And o'er his head TJranian Venus ' hung,
240 And rais'd the blinding bandage from his eyes.
I gave the letter to be sent with dawn;
And then to bed, where half in doze I seem'd
To float about a glimmering night, and watch
A full sea, glaz'd with muffled moonlight,' swell
245 On some dark shore just seen that it was " rich.
As thro' the land at eve we went,
And pluck'd the ripen'd ears,
We fell out, my wife and I,
O we fell out, I know not why,
And kiss'd again with tears.
And blessings on the falling out
That all the more endears,
When we fall out with those we love
And kiss again with tears !
For when we came where lies the child
We lost in other years,
There above the little grave,
0 there above the little grave.
We kiss'd again with tears."
^ It was a slanting hand, such as used to be fashionable for ladies.
" Of the Prince's country.
" The Goddess of Heavenly Love.
" This is one of the many lines in Tennyson noted down in the presence of the
natural scene it describes and afterward used in a poem.
" recognized as being.
® The song is on a reconciliation through softening of the heart by the feelings
aroused by the idea of a lost child ; it serves to bring the mind the power of the
emotions in the midst of so much that is intellectual.
Canto II.]
A MEDLEY
19
CANTO II.
At break of day the college portress ' came ;
She brought us academic silks, in hue
The lilac, with a silken hood ' to each.
And zon'd with gold; and now when these were on,
5 And we as rich as moths from dusk cocoons.
She, curtsying her obeisance, let us know
The Princess Ida waited. Out we pac'd,
I first, and, following thro' the porch that sang
All round with laurel, issued in a court
10 Compact with lucid ® marbles, boss'd * with lengths
Of classic frieze, with ample awnings gay
Betwixt the pillars, and with great urns of flowers.
The Muses and the Graces,' group'd in threes,
Enring'd a billowing fountain in the midst;
15 And here and there on lattice edges lay
Or book or lute ; but hastily we past.
And up a flight of stairs into the hall.
There at a board by tome and paper sat.
With two tame leopards couch'd beside her throne,
20 All beauty compass'd in a female form.
The Princess; liker to the inhabitant
Of some clear planet close upon the sun.
Than our man's earth ; such eyes were in her head.
And so much grace and power, breathing down
25 Prom over her arch'd brows, with every turn
Liv'd thro' her to the tips of her long hands.
And to her feet. She rose her height, and said :
* Each English college has a porter, who is a person of some consideration.
2 A hood is part of the academic costume, and by its cut and color indicates the
quality of its wearer.
® clear, and so shining. * embossed.
® The Muses stood for learning and culture; the Graces for beauty and charm of
life. Our own universities are apt to give chief attention to the former.
20
THE PEINCESS
[Canto II.
" We ' give you welcome. Not without redound "
Of use and glory to ourselves ye come,
30 The first fruits of the stranger; ' after time.
And that full voice which circles round the grave.
Will rank you nobly, mingled up with me.
What! are the ladies of your land so tall ? "
"We of the court," said Cyril. " From the court,"
35 She answer'd; " then ye know the Prince ? " And he:
" The climax of his age! as tho' there were
One rose in all the world, your Highness that.
He worships your ideal." She replied:
" We scarcely thought in our own hall to hear
40 This barren verbiage, current among men.
Light coin, the tinsel clink of compliment.
Your flight from out your bookless wilds would seem
As arguing * love of knowledge and of power;
Your language proves you still the child. ° Indeed,
45 We dream not of him; when we set our hand
To this great work, we purpos'd with ourself
Never to wed. You likewise will do well.
Ladies, in entering here, to cast and fling
The tricks which make us toys of men, that so,
50 Some future time, if so indeed you will.
You may with those self-styl'd our lords ally
Your fortunes, justlier balanc'd, scale with scale."
At those high words, we, conscious of ourselves,
Perus'd the matting; ° then an officer
55 Eose up, and read the statutes, such as these :
Not for three years to correspond with home; '
Not for three years to cross the liberties;
^ The Princess speaks in royal phraseology until vi., 268. ® result.
® the first students from abroad. ^ as if it argued.
® Cf. i., 135. ^ i.e., looked down,
' Compare these conditions with those of Love's Labour's Lost, i., i., 32—48.
Canto II.]
A MEDLEY
21
Not for three years to speak with any men;
And many more, which hastily subscrib'd,
60 We enter'd on the boards. And " Now," she cried,
" Ye are green wood; see ye warp not. Look, our hall!
Our statue's '—not of those that men desire,
Sleek Odalisques," or oracles of mode.
Nor stunted squaws of West or East; ° but she"
65 That taught the Sabine how to rule, and she
The foundress of the Babylonian wall,"
The Carian Artemisia ° strong in war.
The Ehodope ' that built the pyramid,
Olelia,® Cornelia," with the Palmyrene "
70 That fought Aurelian, and the Eoman brows
Of Agrippina." Dwell with these, and lose
Convention," since to look on noble forms
Makes noble thro' the sensuous organism
That which is higher." 0 lift your natures up;
75 Embrace our aims; work out your freedom. Girls,
Knowledge " is now no more a fountain seal'd;
Drink deep, until the habits of the slave.
The sins of emptiness, gossip and spite
^ In the statues of the hall we have a sort of presentation of the heroic woman of
history, a most poetic way of suggesting to the mind enough to give us a half-serious
sympathy with the Princess and her great aims.
^ female slaves in the East.
^ i.e., women who, by being forced to attend to all sorts of mechanical and domes¬
tic duties, have lost the true stature, mental, moral, and physical, of womanhood.
* Egeria, the nymph who was fabled to have been adviser of Numa, second King
of Rome. ® Semiramis.
® Artemisia, Queen of Caria, in Asia Minor, and ally of Xerxes.
Not much more is known of her than is here indicated.
^ A Roman girl given hostage to the Etrurians, who gained fame by escaping from
them. She was sent back to the enemy, who liberated her in recognition of her courage.
® The mother of the Gracchi. Zenobia. The wife of Germánicas.
" Those ideas on the part of the world at large which people take from each other
without thinking of them.
"An idea as old as Plato, at least; one that should, and sometimes does, have
weight in modem education.
The Princess always has knowledge in her mind as the main aim, although she is
often swayed by forces other than mental.
22
THE PEINCESS
[Canto II.
And slander, die. Better not be at all
80 Than not be noble. Leave us; you may go.
To-day the Lady Psyche will harangue
The fresh arrivals of the week before;
For they press in from all the provinces.
And fill the hive."
She spoke, and bowing wav'd
85 Dismissal. Back again we crost the court
To Lady Psyche's. As we enter'd in.
There sat along the forms, like morning doves,'
That sun their milky bosoms on the thatch,
A patient range of pupils; she herself
90 Erect behind a desk of satinwood,
A quick brunette, well molded, falcon-eyed.
And on the hither side, or so she look'd.
Of twenty summers. At her left, a child.
In shining draperies, headed like a star,"
95 Her maiden babe, a double April old,
Aglaia' slept. We sat; the Lady glanc'd;
Then Florian, but no livelier than the dame
That whisper'd " Asses' ears " among the sedge:
" My sister." " Comely, too, by all that's fair,"
100 Said Cyril. " 0 hush, hush! " and she began: '
" This world was once a fluid haze of light,'
Till toward the center set the starry tides.
And eddied into suns, that wheeling cast
The planets; then the monster, then the man,"
105 Tattoo'd or woaded,' winter-clad in skins,
Eaw from the prime," and crushing down his "mate;
^ The Princess would probably have thought of a different figure.
^ with golden hair. ® The child is named after one of the Graces.
* Lady Psyche's lecture impresses the idea of the statues in another way.
^Cf.IV., 1, 2.
® Evolution was in the air at the time the poem was written.
' The ancient Britons colored themselves with woad.
® beginning: man was undeveloped.
Canto II.]
A MEDLEY
23
As yet we find in barbarous isles, and here
Among the lowest."
Thereupon she took
A bird's-eye view of all the ungracious ' past;
110 Grlanc'd at the legendary Amazon "
As emblematic of a nobler age;
Apprais'd the Lycian custom; ' spoke of those
That lay at wine with Lar and Lucumo; *
Ean down the Persian, Grecian, Eoman lines
115 Of empire, and the woman's state in each.
How far from just; till, warming with her theme.
She fulmined out her scorn of laws Salique °
And little-footed China, touch'd on Mahomet °
With much contempt, and came to chivalry,'
130 When some respect, however slight, was paid
To woman, superstition all awry.
However, then commenc'd the dawn; a beam
Had slanted forward, falling in a land
Of promise; fruit would follow. Deep, indeed,
135 Their debt of thanks to her " who first had dar'd
To leap the rotten pales of prejudice,
Disyoke their necks from custom, and assert
Hone lordlier than themselves but that which made
Woman and man. She had founded; they must build.
130 Here might they learn whatever men were taught;
Let them not fear. Some said their heads were less;
Some men's were small; not they the least of men;
^ because she called attention to the slights man had put upon woman.
^ but not Hippolyta in A Midsummer Night's Dream.
® by which the name was taken from the mother.
^Etruscan titles, as will be remembered from Macaulay's Horatius, stanzas i.,
xlvii.
® a law which originally excluded women from the inheritance of land. It de¬
veloped, especially in France, into an exclusion of women from the throne.
® Mahomet's view was that women had no souls.
' The laws of knighthood inculcated the deepest respect, of a certain sort, for
women. It was not wholly right. Lady Psyche thought, because it was founded,
not on right, but on masculine condescension. ® i.e., The Princess.
24 THE PEINCESS [Canto II.
For often fineness compensated, size.
Besides, the brain was like the hand and grew
135 With using; thence the man's, if more was more;
He took advantage of his strength to be
First in the field; some ages had been lost;
But woman ripen'd earlier, and her life
Was longer; and albeit their glorious names
140 Were fewer, scatter'd stars, yet since in truth
The highest is the measure of the man.
And not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay,
Kor those horn-handed breakers of the glebe.
But Homer, Plato, Verulam; ' even so
145 With woman; and in arts of government
Elizabeth and others; arts of war.
The peasant Joan and others; arts of grace,
Sappho and others vied with any man :
And, last not least, she who had left her place,
150 And bow'd her state to them, that they might grow
To use and power on this oasis, lapt '
In the arms of leisure, sacred from the blight
Of ancient influence and shorn.
At last
She rose upon a wind of prophecy
155 Dilating on the future: "Everywhere
Two heads in council, two beside the hearth.
Two in the tangled business of the world.
Two in the liberal offices of life.
Two plummets dropt for ° one to sound the abyss
160 Of science and the secrets of the mind ;
Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, more;
And everywhere the broad and bounteous earth
Should bear a double growth of those rare souls.
Poets, whose thoughts enrich the blood of the world."
^ Bacon was Baron Verulam, and later Viscount St. Albans.
^ wrapped. ® instead of.
Canto II.]
a medley
25
165 She ended here, and beckon'd ns; the rest
Parted; and, glowing full-faced welcome, she
Began to address us, and was moving on
In gratulation, till as when a boat
Tacks, and the slacken'd sail flaps, all her voice
170 Faltering and fluttering in her throat, she cried:
" My brother! " ' " Well, my sister." " 0," she said,
" What do you here ? and in this dress ?—and these ?
Why, who are these ? A wolf within the fold !
A pack of wolves! the Lord be gracious to me!
175 A plot, a plot, a plot, to ruin all! "
" No plot, no plot," he answer'd. "Wretched boy.
How saw you not the inscription on the gate.
Let no man entee in on pain of death ? "
" And if I had," he answer'd, " who could think
180 The softer Adams of your Academe,"
0 sister, sirens " tho' they be, were such
As chanted on the blanching bones of men ? "
" But you will find it otherwise," she said.
"You jest; ill jesting with edge-tools! My vow
185 Binds me to speak, and 0 that iron will,*
That axlike edge unturnable, our Head,
Hie Princess." *' Well then. Psyche, take my life.
And nail me like a weazel on a grange
For warning; bury me beside the gate,
190 And cut this epitaph above my bones:
' Here lies a brother by a sister slain.
All for the common good of womankind.' "
" Let me die too," said Cyril, " having seen
And heard the Lady Psyche." *
^ She recognizes Florian.
^ The school of Plato in the groves of Academe has given a name to many institu¬
tions devoted to learning. ^ i.e. attracting men to their destruction.
^ an exclamation, which leaves the construction incomplete.
® I.e., such an experience was sufiBcient for life; in reality that experience made
him very desirous to live.
26
THE PEINCESS
[Canto II.
I struck in :
195 " Albeit so mask'd, madam, I love the truth.'
Receive it; and in me behold the Prince
Your countryman, affianc'd years ago
To the Lady Ida. Here, for here she was,"
And thus (what other way was left ?) I came."
200 " 0 sir, 0 Prince, I have no country—none;
If any, this; but none. Whate'er I was
Disrooted, what I am is grafted here.
Affianc'd, sir ? love-whispers may not breathe
Within this vestal limit, and how should I,
205 Who am not mine, ° say live ? The thunderbolt
Hangs silent; but prepare: I speak; it falls."
" Yet pause," I said : " for that inscription there,
I think no more of deadly lurks therein
Than in a clapper clapping in a garth,*
210 To scare the fowl from fruit; if more there be.
If more and acted on, what follows ? War;
Your own work marr'd; for this your Academe,
Whichever side be victor, in the halloo
Will topple to the trumpet down,* and pass
215 With all fair theories only made to gild
A stormless summer." " Let the Princess judge
Of that," she said; " farewell, sir—and to you.
I shudder at the sequel, but I go."
" Are you that Lady Psyche," I rejoin'd,
220 " The fifth in line from that old Florian,
Yet hangs his portrait in my father's hall
(The gaunt old baron with his beetle brow
Sun-shaded in the heat of dusty fights)
* Cf. Gareth andLynetts, 284-294.
® This clause is parenthetic, giving the reason for the adverb, as in the next line.
® She belongs to the Princess by her vows.
* a mechanical device for scaring birds.
® for it -was on the northern frontier, right in the path of possible "war.
canto ii.] a medley 27
As he bestrode ' my grandsire, when he fell,
235 And all else fled. We point to it, and we say,
' The loyal warmth of Florian is not cold,
But branches current yet in kindred veins.' "
" Are you that Psyche," Florian added; " she
With whom I sang about the morning hills,
330 Flung ball, flew kite, and rac'd the purple fly.
And snar'd the squirrel of the glen ? Are you
That Psyche, wont to bind my throbbing brow.
To smooth my pillow, mix the foaming draught
Of fever, tell me pleasant tales, and read
385 My sickness down to happy dreams ? Are you
That brother-sister Psyche, both in one ?
You were that Psyche, but what are you now ? ''
" You are that Psyche," Cyril said, " for whom
I would be that forever which I seem,
340 Woman, if I might sit beside your feet,
And glean your scatter'd sapience.
Then once more,
" Are you that Lady Psyche," I began,
" That on her bridal morn, before she past
From all her old companions, when the king
345 Kiss'd her pale cheek, declar'd that ancient ties
Would still be dear beyond the southern hills;
That were there any of our people there
In want or peril, there was one to hear
And help them ? Look! for such are these and I."
250 " Are you that Psyche," Florian ask'd, " to whom.
In gentler days, your arrow-wounded fawn
Came flying while you sat beside the well ?
The creature laid his muzzle on your lap,
And sobb'd, and you sobb'd with it, and the blood
355 Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and you wept.
That was fawn's blood, not brother's, yet you wept.
* i.e., in defending him in battle.
28
THE PRINCESS
[Canto II.
0 by the bright head of my little niece.
You were that Psyche, and what are you now ? "
" You are that Psyche," Cyril said again,
360 " The mother of the sweetest little maid
That ever crow'd for kisses."
" Out upon it! "
She answer'd; " peace! and why should I not play
the Spartan mother ' with emotion, be
The Lucius Junius Brutus " of my kind ?
365 Him you call great. He for the common weal.
The fading politics of mortal Eome,'
As I might slay this child, if good need were.
Slew both his sons. And I, shall I, on whom
The secular emancipation * turns
370 Of half this world,' be swerv'd from right to save
A prince, a brother ? A little will I yield.
Best so, perchance, for us, and well for you.
0 hard, when love and duty clash! I fear
My conscience will not count me fleckless; yet—
375 Hear my conditions : promise (otherwise
You perish) as you came, to slip away
To-day,—to-morrow,—soon. It shall be said,
' These women were too barbarous, would hot learn ;
They fled, who might have sham'd us.' Promise, alh"
380 What could we else ? we promis'd each ; and she.
Like some wild creature newly cag'd, commenc'd
A to-and-fro, so pacing till she paus'd
By Plorian, holding out her lily arms
Took both his hands, and smiling faintly said :
385 " I knew you at the first; tho' you have grown
^ Who put her love for the state before her love for her son when she told him to
come back with his shield or upon it.
^ A Roman Consul who condemned to death two sons who had plotted against the
Republic. ® for temporary things.
^ the emancipation of the age. ® namely, the feminine half.
Canto II.]
A MEDLEY
29
You scarce have alter'd. I am sad and glad
To see you, Florian. I give thee to death.
My brother! it was duty spoke, not I.
My needful seeming harshness, pardon it.
390 Our mother, is she well ? "
With that she kiss'd
His forehead, then, a moment after, clung
About him, and betwixt them blossom'd up
From out a common vein of memory
Sweet household talk, and phrases of the hearth,
295 And far allusion, till the gracious dews '
Began to glisten and to fall; and while
They stood so rapt, we gazing, came a voice :
" I brought a message here from Lady Blanche."
Back started she, and turning round we saw
300 The Lady Blanche's daughter where she stood,
Melissa, with her hand upon the lock,
A rosy blonde, and in a college gown,
That clad her like an April daffodilly
(Her mother's color '), with her lips apart,
305 And all her thoughts as fair within her eyes
As bottom agates seen to wave and float
In crystal currents of clear morning seas.'
So stood that same fair creature at the door.
Then Lady Psyche: "Ah—Melissa—you!
310 You heard us?" And Melissa: " 0 pardon me!
I heard, I could not help it, did not wish;
But, dearest Lady, pray you fear me not,
Nor think I bear that heart within my breast.
To give three gallant gentlemen to death."
315 " I trust you," said the other, " for we two
^ tears. " as Lady Psyche's color was violet.
" A curiously particular figure, which can easily be realized some summer's day
even if there be no agates to look at.
30
THE PRINCESS
[Canto II.
Were always friends, none closer, elm and vine;
But yet your mother's jealous temperament—
Let not your prudence, dearest, drowse, or prove
The Danaïd ^ of a leaky vase, for fear
330 This whole foundation ruin, and I lose
My honor, these their lives." "Ah, fear me not,"
Replied Melissa; " no—I would not tell.
No, not for all Aspasia's cleverness; '
No, not to answer, madam, all those hard things
835 That Sheba came to ask of Solomon."
" Be it so," the other, " that we still may lead
The new light up,' and culminate in peace;
For Solomon may come to Sheba yet."
Said Cyril: " Madam, he the wisest man
330 Feasted the woman wisest then, in halls
Of Lebanonian cedar; nor should you,
(Tho', madam, you should answer, we would ask,)
Less welcome find among us, if you came
Among us, debtors for our lives to you,
335 Myself for something more. " * He said not what.
But " Thanks," she answer'd. " Go; we have been too
long
Together. Keep your hoods about the face;
They do so that affect abstraction here.'
Speak little; mix not with the rest; and hold
340 Your promise; all, I trust, may yet be well."
We turn'd to go, but Cyril took the child.
And held her round the knees against his waist,'
* The Danaîds were punished in Hades by having to carry water in sieves.
^ Aspasia was a friend of Pericles. Here, as in the next line, Melissa shows the
stress laid at the college upon intellectual attainment.
® Psyche cannot entirely drop the tone of the lecturer.
^ Cyril's compliment is so elaborate as to be hard to grasp all at once. It made
Florian sick to hear it (1. 372), but the main thing was at the end.
® One of the college fads, such as may be observed in any college to-day.
® the chief masculine way of holding a baby.
Canto II.]
A MEDLEY
31
And blew the swoH'n cheek of a trumpeter,
While Psyche watch'd them, smiling, and the child
345 Push'd her flat hand against his face and laugh'd;
And thus our conference clos'd.
And then we stroll'd
For half the day thro' stately theaters '
Bench'd crescentwise. In each we sat, we heard
The grave professor. On the lecture slate
350 The circle rounded under female hands
With flawless demonstration. Follow'd then
A classic lecture, rich in sentiment.
With scraps of thunderous epic lilted ' out
By violet-hooded doctors, elegies
355 And quoted odes, and jewels five words long'
That on the stretch'd forefinger of all Time
Sparkle forever. Then we dipt in all
That treats of whatsoever is,—the state.
The total chronicles of man, the mind,
360 The morals, something of the frame, the rock.
The star, the bird, the fish, the shell, the flower.
Electric, chemic laws, and all the rest.
And whatsoever can be taught and known;
Till like three horses that have broken fence,
365 And glutted all night long breast-deep in corn.
We issued gorg'd with knowledge, and I spoke;
" Why, sirs, they do all this* as well as we."
" They hunt old trails," said Cyril, " very well;
But when did woman ever yet invent ? " °
370 " Ungracious! " answer'd Florian; " have you learnt
Uo more from Psyche's lecture, you that talk'd
^ The classic meaning of the term, much the same as lecture halls.
^ the word is used in humorous contrast to thunderous.
^ epigrams or proverbs.
* Subsequent experience seems to show that they do some things better, some not
so well.
® Cyril was in a position which prefers to have woman what she always has been.
32
THE PRINCESS
[Canto II.
The trash that made me sick, and almost sad ? "
" 0 trash," he said, " but with a kernel in it.
Should I not call her wise who made me wise ? '
375 And learnt ? I learnt more from her in a flash
Than if my brainpan were an empty hull.
And every Muse tumbled a science in."
A thousand hearts lie fallow in these halls.
And round these halls a thousand baby loves
380 Fly, twanging headless arrows at the hearts.
Whence follows many a vacant pang; but 0
With me, sir, euter'd in the bigger boy.
The head of all the golden-shafted flrm.
The long-limb'd lad that had a Psyche " too;
385 He cleft me thro' the stomacher; and now
What think you of it, Florian ? do I chase
The substance or the shadow ? will it hold ?
I have no sorcerer's malison ' on me,
No ghostly hauntings like his Highness. I
390 Flatter myself that always everywhere
I know the substance when I see it. Well,
Are castles shadows ? Three of them ? " Is she.
The sweet proprietress, a shadow ? If not.
Shall those three castles patch my tatter'd coat ?
395 For dear are those three castles to my wants.
And dear is sister Psyche to my heart.
And two dear things are one of double worth;
And much I might have said, but that my zone
Unmann'd me. Then the doctors! ° 0 to hear
400 The doctors! 0 to watch the thirsty plants
^ with a lover's wisdom—the kind Keats thought of when he wrote of the rosy
terms of Cupid's College in Lamia.
^ Cyril has the old-fashioned conception of education.
^ The story of Cupid and Psyche may be read at length in Ch. V. of Pater's
Marius the Epicurean.
^ curse. Cf. the word henison.
® the three that Psyche owned.
® professers; originally the grade was the same.
Canto IL]
A MEDLEY
33
Imbibing ! ' Once or twice I thought to roar,
To break my chain, to shake my name;—but thou ®
Modulate me, soul of mincing mimicry!
Make liquid treble of that bassoon, my throat;
405 Abase those eyes that ever lov'd to meet
Star-sisters answering under crescent brows; '
Abate the stride which speaks of man, and loose
A flying charm of blushes o'er this cheek.
Where they, like swallows coming out of time,
410 Will wonder why they came.—But hark, the bell
For dinner; let us go! "
And in we stream'd
Among the columns, pacing staid and still
By twos and threes, till all from end to end.
With beauties every shade of brown and fair,
415 In colors gayer than the morning mist.
The long hall glitter'd like a bed of flowers."
How might a man not wander from his wits
Pierc'd thro' with eyes, but that I kept mine own
Intent on her ' who, rapt in glorious dreams,
4aO The second sight of some Astrsean " age.
Sat compass'd with professors; they, the while,
Discuss'd a doubt and tost it to and fro;
A clamor thicken'd, mixt with inmost terms
Of art and science. Lady Blanche alone,'
435 Of faded form and haughtiest lineaments.
With all her autumn tresses falsely brown.
Shot sidelong daggers at us, a tiger cat
In act to spring.
^ the real girls were so desirous to leam. ^ namely, the soul of the next line.
® He had to act much against his nature. * with violet and yellow.
® The Princess, as Head of the College, sat probably at a higher table, across the
end, perhaps, of the hall.
® Astrœa, Goddess of Justice, would return, the Greeks fabled, and bring in the
Golden Age.
Lady Blanche was older than Lady Psyche, and jealous of her. She did not like
these newcomers, because they increased her rival's influence.
34
THE PRINCESS
[Canto II.
At last a solemn grace
Concluded.;, and we sought the gardens. There
430 One walk'd reciting by herself, and one
In this hand held a volume as to read,
And smooth'd a petted peacock down with that; '
Some to a low song oar'd a shallop by.
Or under arches of the marble bridge
435 Hung, shadow'd from the heat; some hid and sought
In the orange thickets; others tost a ball
Above the fountain jets, and back again
With laughter; others lay about the lawns.
Of the older sort, and murmur'd that their May
440 Was passing; what was learning unto them ? '
They wish'd to marry; they could rule a house;
Men hated learned women. But we three
Sat muffled' like the Pates; and often came
Melissa, hitting all we saw with shafts
445 Of gentle satire, kin to charity.
That harm'd not. Then day droopt; the chapel bells
Oall'd us. We left the walks; we mixt with those
Six hundred maidens clad in purest white,'
Before two streams of light from wall to wall,
450 While the great organ almost burst his pipes,
G roaniug for power, and rolling thro' the court
A long melodious thunder to the sound
■ Of solemn psalms and silver litanies.
The work of Ida, to call down from heaven
455 A blessing on her labors for the world.'
^ This is but one of those pictures which, if imaginativelyrealized. will give us some
conception of what Tennyson's poems were to him.
^ Of course, there were some who had little enthusiasm or imagination, but why
were they there ?
3 Cf. II., 338.
* as the student of some English colleges wears a surplice in the chapel service.
^ The canto comes to a very beautiful close, and one quite in keeping with the song
which follows.
Canto III,]
A MEDLEY
35
Sweet and low, sweet and low,
"Wind of the western sea.
Low, low, breathe and blow.
Wind of the western sea !
Over the rolling waters go.
Come from the dying moon, and blow.
Blow him again to me ;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest.
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast.
Father will come to thee soon ;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon;
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
CANTO III.
Morn, in the white wake of the morning star,'
Came furrowing all the orient into gold.
We rose, and each by other drest with care.
Descended to the court, that lay three parts
5 In shadow, but the Muses' heads " were touch'd
Above the darkness from their native East.
There while we stood beside the fount, and watch'd
Or seem'd to watch the dancing bubble, approach'd
Melissa, ting'd with wan " from lack of sleep,
10 Or grief, and glowing round her dewy eyes
The circled Iris ' of a night of tears.
And " Fly," she cried, " 0 fly, while yet you may!
My mother ' knows." And when I ask'd her " How ? "
^ The figure is evidently a pretty one, though a little hard to realize.
^ It was very early; the sun had not risen high.
" used as a noun. * Iris was goddess of the varicolored rainbow.
® Lady Blanche.
36
THE PRINCESS
[Canto III.
" My fault," she wept, " my fault! aud yet not mine;
15 Yet mine in part. 0 hear me, pardon me!
My mother, 'tis her won t from night to night
To rail at Lady Psyche and her side.'
She says the Princess should have been the Head,
Herself and Lady Psyche the two arms;
20 And so it was agreed when first they came;
But Lady Psyche was the right hand " now.
And she the left, or not ' or seldom used;
Hers more than half the students, all the love.
And so last night she fell to canvass ' you :
25 Her countrywomen ! she did not envy her.
' "Who ever saw such wild barbarians ?
Grirls !—more like men ! ' and at these words the snake.
My secret, seem'd to stir within my breast;
And oh, sirs, could I help it, hut my cheek
30 Began to burn and burn, and her lynx eye
To fix and make me hotter, till she laugh'd :
' 0 marvelously modest maiden, you !
Men! girls, like men! why, if they had been men
You need not set your thoughts in rubric ' thus
35 Por wholesale " comment.' Pardon, I am sham'd
That I must needs repeat for my excuse
What looks so little graceful. ' Men ' (for still
My mother went revolving on the word),
' And so they are,—very like men indeed,—
40 And with that woman closeted for hours ! '
Then came these dreadful words out one by one:
' Why—these—are—men! ' I shudder'd; ' and you know
it! '
' 0, ask me nothing,' I said. ' And she knows too,
^ those who had her as tutor. ' i.e. did everything.
® A condensed expression, such as is not uncommon In Tennyson's nai-rative poetry.
^ talk over.
® The directions in a book of devotion are called rubrics because they are rubricati^
or written in red. ® for everybody to see.
Canto III.]
A MEDLEY"
And she conceals it.' So my mother clutch'd
45 The truth at once, but with no word from me;
And now thus early risen she goes to inform
The Princess. Lady Psyche will be crush'd;
But you may yet be sav'd, and therefore fly;
But heal me with your pardon ere you go."
50 " What pardon, sweet Melissa, for a blush ? " '
Said Cyril; " Pale one, blush again. Than wear
Those lilies, better blush our lives away.
Yet let us breathe for one hour more in heaven,"
He added, " lest some classic angel speak
55 In scorn of us, ' They mounted, Ganymedes,
To tumble, Vulcans," on the second morn.'
But I will melt this marble into wax
To yield us farther furlough; " ' and he went.
Melissa shook her doubtful curls,' and thought
60 He scarce would prosper. " Tell us," Pierian ask'd,
" How grew this feud betwixt the right and left."
" 0, long ago," she said, " betwixt these two
Division smolders hidden; 'tis my mother.
Too jealous, often fretful as the wind
65 Pent in a crevice; much I bear with her.
I never knew my father, but she says
(God help her!) she was wedded to a fool;
And still " she rail'd against the state of things.
She had the care of Lady Ida's youth,
70 And from the Queen's decease she brought her up.
But when your sister came she won the heart
* Why ask forgiveness foi a merit ?
2 Ganymede was a beautiful boy carried up to Olympus by Jupiter; Vulcan
cast out of heaven by his own mother for hia ugliness.
® persuade her to let us stay longer.
* It was Melissa who was doubtful ; the figure is called "transferred epithet."
® always, as in 11. 72, 75 and elsewhere.
38
THE PEINCESS
[Canto III.
Of Ida. They were still together,—grew
(For so they said themselves) inosculated; '
Consonant" chords that shiver to one note;
75 One mind in all things. Yet my mother still
Affirms your Psyche thiev'd her theories.
And angled with them for her pupils' love.
She calls her plagiarist,—I know not what.
But I must go, I dare not tarry," and light
80 As flies the shadow of a bird, she fled.
Then murmur'd Florian, gazing after her,
" An open-hearted maiden, true and pure.
If I could love, why this were she. How pretty
Her blushing was, and how she blush'd again,
85 As if to close with ' Cyril's random wish !
Hot like your Princess cramm'd with erring pride.
Nor like poor Psyche whom she drags in tow." '
" The crane," I said, " may chatter of the crane.
The dove may murmur of the dove," but I,
90 An eagle, clang ° an eagle to the sphere.
My princess, 0 my princess! true, she errs.
But in her own grand way. Being herself
Three times more noble than three score of men.
She sees herself in every woman else,
95 And so she wears her error like a crown
To blind the truth and me. For her, and her,'
Hebes ' are they to hand ambrosia, mix
The nectar; but—ah, she—whene'er she moves
^ joined into one.
^ sounding together ; the meter shows that the sense is different from the ordinary
word. ^ to agree to.
^ Melissa, he thought, had a womanly charm, not like the mistaken pride of the
Princess or the well-directed ability of Lady Psyche.
® Cyril was the chatterer, Florian the cooer.
® The same word is used in IV., 415, where it is easier to realize.
Psyche and Melissa. ® Hebe was handmaid at the banquets of the gods.
Canto III.]
A MEDLEY
39
The Samian Herè ' rises, and she speaks
100 A Memnon smitten with the morning sun." "
So saying, irom the court we pac'd, and gain'd
The terrace rang'd along the northern front,'
And leaning there on those balusters,' high
Above the empurpled champaign, drank the gale
105 That, blown about the foliage underneath.
And sated with the innumerable rose.
Beat balm upon our eyelids. Hither came
Cyril, and yawning, " 0 hard task," he cried;
" No fighting shadows here! I forc'd a way
110 Thro' solid opposition crabb'd and gnarl'd.
Better to clear prime forests," heave and thump
A league of street in summer solstice down.
Than hammer at this reverend gentlewoman.
I knock'd and, bidden, enter'd; found her there
115 At point ° to move, and settled in her eyes
The green, malignant light of coming storm.
Sir, I was courteous, every phrase well-oil'd
As man's could be; yet maiden-meek I pray'd
Concealment.' She demanded who we were,
120 And why we came. I fabled nothing fair.
But, your example pilot, told her all.
Up went the hush'd amaze of hand and eye.
But when I dwelt upon your old affiance.
She answer'd sharply that I talk'd astray.
125 I urg'd the fierce inscription on the gate.
And our three lives. True—we had lim'd " ourselves
With open eyes, and we must take the chance.
^ Hera, or Juno, queen of the Immortals.
^ The statue of Memnon gave forth music when touched by the sun's morning rays.
So the Princess by the power of new views of truth.
® the part that looked to their own coimtry. * Note the accent.
® forest primeval. ® just about.
' a good example of Tennyson's poetic condensation. ® caught.
40 THE PRINCESS [CANTO III.
But such extremes, I told her, well might harm
The woman's cause. ' Not more than now,' she said,
130 ' So puddled ' as it is with favoritism. '
I tried the mother's heart: shame might hefall
Melissa, knowing, saying not she knew.
Her answer was, ' Leave me to deal with that.'
I spoke of war to come and many deaths,
135 And she replied, her duty was to speak.
And duty, duty, clear of consequences.
I grew discourag'd, sir; but since I knew
No rock so hard but that a little wave
May beat admission in a thousand years,
140 I recommenc'd: ' Decide not ere you pause.
I find you here but in the second place,"
Some say the third,—the authentic foundress you.
I offer boldly : we will seat you highest.
Wink at our advent, help my Prince to gain
145 His rightful bride, and here I promise you
Some palace in our land, where you shall reign
The head and heart of all our fair she-world.
And your great name fiow on with broadening time
For ever.' Well, she balanc'd this a little,
150 And told me she would answer us to-day.
Meantime be mute; thus much, nor more, I gain'd."
He ceasing, came a message from the Head :
"That afternoon the'Princess rode to take
The dip of certain strata to the north.
155 Would we go with her ? We should find the land
Worth seeing, and the river made a fall
Out yonder;" then she pointed on to where
A double hill ran up his furrowy forks
Beyond the thick-leaved platans of the vale.
' muddled or defiled.
® Cyril evidently had been in politics at home.
Canto III.] a medley
160 Agreed to, this, the day fled on thro' all
Its range of duties to the appointed hour.
Then summon'd to the porch we went. She stood
Among her maidens, higher by the head.
Her back against a pillar, her foot on one
165 Of those tame leopards. Kittenlike he roll'd
And paw'd about her sandal. I drew near;
I gaz'd. On a sudden my strange seizure came
Upon me, the weird vision of our house:
The Princess Ida seem'd a hollow show,
170 Her gay-furr'd cats a painted fantasy.
Her college and her maidens empty masks.
And I myself the shadow of a dream.
For all things were and were not.' Yet I felt
My heart beat thick with passion and with awe;
175 Then from my breast the involuntary sigh
Brake, as she smote me with the light of eyes
That lent my knee desire to kneel, and shook
My pulses, till to horse we got, and so
"Went forth in long retinue following up
180 The river as it narrow'd to the hills."
I rode beside her and to me she said :
" 0 friend, we trust that you esteem'd us not
Too harsh to yoiir companion yestermorn;
Unwillingly we spake." " " No—not to her,"
185 I answer'd, " but to one of whom we spake
Your Highness might have seem'd the thing ]
say."
" Again ? '■ she cried; " are you ambassadresses
From him to me ? We give you, being strange,
A license; speak, and let the topic die."
' I. IS.
® As the river and the valley grew narrower and narrower among the hills.
^ She had been thinking of her reply to Cyril (TL, 39-44).
42
THE PRINCESS
[Cakto hi.
190 I stammer'd that I knew him—could have wish'd— '
" Our king expects—was there no precontract ?
There is no truer-hearted—ah, you seem
All he prefigur'd, and he could not see
The bird of passage flying south hut long'd
195 To follow. Surely, if your Highness keep
Your purport, you will shock him ev'n to death.
Or baser courses, children of despair."
" Poor boy," she said, " can he not read—no books"?
Quoit, tennis, ball—no games ? ' nor deals in that
200 "Which men delight in, martial exercise ?
To nurse a blind ideal like a girl,
Methinks he seems no better than a girl.
As girls were once, as we ourself have been.
We had our dreams; perhaps he mixt with them.
205 We touch on our dead self, nor shun to do it,'
Being other—since we learnt our meaning here.
To lift the woman's fall'n divinity
Upon an even pedestal with man."
She paus'd, and added with a haughtier smile:
210 " And as to precontracts, we move, my friend.
At no man's beck, but know ourself and thee,
0 Vashti, noble "Washti! ' Summon'd out.
She kept her state, and left the drunken king
To brawl at Shushan underneath the palms."
215 "Alas, your Highness breathes full east," I said,
" On that which leans to you.' I know the Prince,
1 prize his truth ; and then how vast a work
^ These are the incomplete sentences by which the Prince tried to ei^ress his mean¬
ing.
^ Has he none of the foolish games that men indulge in? '
^ The past is dead, but the Princess is not afraid to look at it.
^ Vashti, who would not come when the king sent for her unworthily.
® You are severe, like an east wind, on one who turns to you.
Canto III.]
a medley
43
To assail this gray preëminence of man !
You grant me license; might I use it î Think:
230 Ere half- be done perchance your life may fail;
Then comes the feebler heiress of your plan.
And takes and ruins all; and thus your pains
May only make that footprint upon sand
Which old-recurring -waves of prejudice
235 Resmooth to nothing. Might I dread that you.
With only Eame for spouse, and your great deeds
For issue, yet may live in vain, and miss.
Meanwhile, what every woman counts her due.
Love, children, happiness? " '
And she exclaim'd :
230 " Peace, you young savage of the northern wild!
What ! tho' your Prince's love were like a god's.
Have we not made ourself the sacrifice ? '
You are bold indeed,—we are not talk'd to thus.
Yet will we say for children, would they grew
235 Like field flowers everywhere! we like them well.
But children die; and let me tell you, girl,
Howe'er you babble, great deeds cannot die;
They with the sun and moon renew their light
Forever, blessing those that look on them.
240 Children,—that men may pluck them from our hearts.
Kill us with pity, break us with ourselves,—
0—children—there is nothing upon earth
More miserable than she that has a son
And sees him err. Kor would we work for fame;
245 Tho' she perhaps might reap the applause of Great,
Who learns the one pod sto whence after hands
May move the world, ' tho' she herself effect
* You might not gain what you aim at, and yet lose what other women value.
^ She says she is willing to sacrifice herself.
^ the one who laid the fojiPsCl^tions, even if she did not build freely on them. Pou
)PTO- Apiece to stand on.
44
THE PBHSTCESS
[Canto III.
But little. Wherefore up and act, nor shrink
For fear our solid aim be dissipated
350 By frail successors. Would, indeed, we had been.
In lieu of many mortal flies, a race
Of giants, living each a thousand years.
That we might see our own work out, and watch
The sandy footprint harden into stone." '
255 I answer'd nothing, doubtful in myself
If that strange poet-princess with her grand
Imaginations might at all be won.
And she broke out interpreting my thoughts:
"No doubt we seem a kind of monster ' to you;
260 We are us'd to that; for women, up till this
Cramp'd under worse than South-sea-isle taboo.
Dwarfs of the gynseceum,' fail so far
In high desire, they know not—cannot guess
How much their welfare is a passion to us.
265 If we could give them surer, quicker proof—
0 if our end were less achievable
By slow approaches than by single act
Of immolation,^ any phase of death.
We were as prompt to spring against the pikes,
270 Or down the fiery gulf, as talk of it.
To compass our dear sisters' liberties."
She bow'd as if to veil a noble tear;
And up we came to where the river slop'd
To plunge in cataract, shattering on black blocks
* The object of the ride suggests the figure.
' a wonderful creature without human instincts.
^ The women's part of the house; they were dwarfs because seclusion held them
down.
* If sudden self-sacrifice (like that of Decius Mus or Quintus Curtius) would do the
thing, she would be prompt to do it.
Canto III.]
A MEDLEY
45
375 A breadth of thunder. O'er it shook the woods.
And dano'd the color, and, below, stuck out
The bones of some vast bulk that liv'd and roar'd
Before man was. She gaz'd awhile and said,
" As these rude bones to us," are we to her
280 That will be." " Dare we dream of that," I ask'd,
" Which wrought us, as the workman and his work.
That practice betters ? " " How," she cried, " you loVe
The metaphysics ! read and earn our prize,
A golden brooch : beneath an emerald plane
285 Sits Diotima, teaching him that died
Of hemlock; ' our device; wrought to the life;
She rapt upon her subject, he on her;
For there are schools for all." " And yet," I said,
" Methinks I have not found among them all
290 One anatomic." " Nay, we thought of that,"
She answer'd, " but it pleas'd us not. In truth
We shudder but to dream our maids should ape
Those monstrous males that carve the living hound.
And cram him with the fragments of the grave ;
295 Or in the dark dissolving human heart.
And holy secrets of this microcosm.
Dabbling a shameless hand with shameful jest,
Encarnalize their spirits. Yet we know
Knowledge is knowledge, and this matter hangs.'
300 Howbeit ourself, foreseeing casualty.
Nor willing men should come among us, learnt.
For many weary moons before we came.
This craft of healing.' Were you sick, ourself
Would tend upon you. To your question now,
305 Which touches on the workman and his work.
^ Remains of Mastodon or Megatherium.
' Socrates. ^ is yet to be decided upon.
* Though medicine were not for all women, the Princess learned it for its practical
worth.
46
THE PRINCESS
[Canto III.
Let there be light, and there was light: 'tis so;
For was, and is, and will be, are but is; '
And all creation is one act at once.
The birth of light. But we that are not all,
310 As parts, can see but parts, now this, now that.
And live, perforce, from thought to thought, and make
One act a phantom of succession. Thus
Our weakness somehow shapes the shadow. Time;
But in the shadow will we work, and mold
315 The woman to the fuller day."
She spake
With kindled eyes. We rode a league beyond.
And, o'er a bridge of pine wood crossing, came
On flowery levels underneath the crag.
Full of all beauty. " 0 how sweet," I said
330 (For I was half oblivious of my mask),
" To linger here with one that lov'd us." " Yea,"
She answer'd, " or with fair philosophies
That lift the fancy; for indeed these fields
Are lovely. Lovelier not the Blysian lawns,"
325 Where pac'd the demigods of old, and saw
The soft white vapor streak the crowned towers
Built to the sun; " then, turning to her maids,
" Pitch our pavilion here upon the sward;
Lay out the viands." At the word, they rais'd
330 A tent of satin, elaborately wrought
With fair Oorinna's' triumph; here she stood.
Engirt with many a florid maiden cheek,
The woman conqueror; woman-conquer'd there
The bearded victor of ten thousand hymns,"
^ The element of time is but a mortal factor ; seen absolutely, the creation is
always implicit in the Creator.
^ Being in love himself, he forgot his character.
® The verb is omitted: Elysium was the abode of the heroes after death.
^ A Greek poetess who is said to have taught Pindar and often to have beaten him
in poetic contests. ® Pindar.
Canto III.]
A MEDLEY
47
335 And all the men mourn'd at his side. But we
Set forth to climb; then, climbing, Cyril kept
With Psyche, with Melissa Florian, I
With mine affianc'd. Many a little hand
Glanc'd like a touch of sunshine on the rocks,
340 Many a light foot shone like a jewel set
In the dark crag. And then we turn'd, we wound
About the cliffs, the copses, out aud in.
Hammering and clinking, chattering stony names
Of shale and hornblende, rag and trap and tuff,
345 Amygdaloid and trachyte, till the sun
Grew broader toward his death, and fell, and all
The rosy heights came out above the lawns.'
The splendor falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story;
The long light shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory.
Blow, bngle, blow, set the wild echoes flying;
Blow, bngle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
0 hark, 0 hear! how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
0 sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let ns hear the purple glens replying;
Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
0 love, they die in yon rich sky.
They faint on hill or field or river;
Onr echoes roll from soul to soul.
And grow forever and forever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying.
And answer, echoes, answer, dying, dying, dying.
^ The tops of the mountains keep longest the light of the setting sun. The end of
this canto Is very harmonious; note how, like the end of the second, it blends with
the feeling of the following song.
48
THE PEINCESS
[Canto IV.
CANTO IV.
" There sinks the nebulous star we call the sun.
If that hypothesis of theirs be sound,"
Said Ida; " let us down and rest; " and we,
Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices,
5 By every coppice-feather'd chasm and cleft,
Dropt thro' the ambrosial gloom to where below.
No bigger than a glowworm, shone the tent.
Lamp-lit from the inner. Once she lean'd on me.
Descending; once or twice she lent her hand,
10 And blissful palpitations in the blood.
Stirring a sudden transport, rose and fell.
But when we planted level feet, and dipt
Beneath the satin dome and enter'd in.
There, leaning deep in broider'd down, we sank
15 Our elbows; on a tripod in the midst
A fragrant flame rose, and before us glow'd
Fruit, blossom, viand, amber wine, and gold.
Then she; " Let some one sing to us; lightlier move
The minutes fledg'd with music; " and a maid,
20 Of those beside her, smote her hai-p, and sang :
^ This song would puzzle those who demand from every poem some definite thought :
it presents a mood but offers no explanation. That was probably the reason the
Princess did not care for it.
25
" Tears, idle tears, 1 know not what they mean; *
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Eise in the heart, and gather to the eyes.
In looking on the happy autumn fields.
And thinking of the days that are no more.
30
" Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail.
That brings our friends up from the underworld.
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge ;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
Canto IV.]
A MEDLEY
49
" Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
The casement slowly grows a glimmering square ;
35 So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
" Dear as remember'd kisses after death.
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feign'd
On lips that are for others; deep as love.
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret ;
40 O death in life, the days that are no more."
She ended with such passion that the tear
She sang of shook and fell, an erring pearl
Lost in her bosom. But with some disdain
Answer'd the Princess: " If indeed there haunt
45 About the molder'd lodges of the past
So sweet a voice and vague, fatal to men.
Well needs it ' we should cram our ears with wool "
And so pace by. But thine are fancies hatch'd
In silken-folded idleness; nor is it
50 Wiser to weep a true occasion lost.
But trim our sails, and let old bygones be,'
While down the streams that float us each and all
To the issue, goes, like glittering bergs of ice.
Throne after throne, and molten on the waste
55 Becomes a cloud.* For all things serve their time
Toward that great year ' of equal mights and rights;
Nor would I flght with iron laws, in the end
Found golden; ° let the past be past; let be
Their cancel'd babels. Tho' the rough kex break
* An archaic use, like what needs it. ^ like Ulysses and the Sirens.
^ Do not consider such things, but work ahead.
* Kingdoms melt away as time goes on, like icebergs.
® The so-called Platonic Year, in which by agreement of many cycles, everything
has come back to the state in which it had been at creation, a sort of millenium
therefore.
® Laws once harsh, but found in time to have been the necessary outcome of
harsh conditions.
50
THE PEIHCESS
[Canto IV.
60 The starr'd mosaic, and the beard-blown goat
Hang on the shaft, and the wild fig tree split
Their monstrous idols," care not while we hear
A trumpet in the distance pealing news
Of better, and Hope, a poising eagle, burns
65 Above the unrisen morrow." Then to me:
" Know you no song of your own land? " she said;
" Hot such as moans about the retrospect.
But deals with the other distance and the hues
Of promise; not a death's head at the wine." "
70 Then I remember'd one myself had made.
What time I watch'd the swallow winging south
From mine own land, part made long since, and part
How while I sang; and maidenlike as far
As I could ape their treble, did I sing :
75 "0 Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying south,^
Ply to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves, ■
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
" 0 tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
go And dark and true and tender is the North.
" 0 Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and t vitter twenty million loves.
"0 were I thou that she might take me in,
85 And lay me on her bosom, and, her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died!
^ Though their civilization go to absolute ruin, so that the hemlock breaks the
mosaic floor, the goat climbs on the broken pillar, the fig-tree grows up in the temple.
^ The poet's spirit is careless of consistency; we must take image after image as
they come, and get the heightening of spirit that somes from each.
® The Egyptians were said to have a death's head at their feasts, to remind them
of mortality.
® At the time of writing, south meant the country of the Princess.
Canto IV.]
A MEDLEY
51
"Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself when all the woods are green ?
90
" 0 tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown.
Say to her, I do bnt wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.
95
" 0 tell her, brief is life but loYe is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.
"0 Swallow^ flying from the golden woods.
Fly to her, and pipe, and woo her, and make her mine.
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee."
I ceas'd, and all the ladies, each at each,
100 Like the Ithacensian suitors ' in old time,
Star'd with great eyes, and laugh'd with alien lips.
And knew not what they meant; for still my voice
Eang false. But smiling, " Not for thee," she said,
" 0 Bulbul," any rose of Gulistan ^
105 Shall burst her veil; marsh divers, rather, maid.
Shall croak thee sister, or the meadow crake
Grate her harsh kindred in the grass. And this
A mere love poem! 0 for such, my friend.
We hold them slight; they mind us of the time
110 When we made bricks in Egypt.* Knaves are men.
That lute and flute fantastic tenderness.
And dress the victim to the offering up.
And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise,
And play the slave to gain the tyranny.
115 Poor soul! I had a maid of honor once;
She wept her true eyes blind for such a one,
A rogue of cazonets and serenades.
I lov'd her. Peace be with her; she is dead.
^ The suitors of Penelope, while she waited ten years for the return of Ulysses.
2 nightingale. ^ Persian for rose-garden. ^ The time of our bondage.
52
THE PBESrOESS
[Canto IV.
So they blaspheme the muse! But great is song
120 Us'd to great ends.' Ourself have often tried
Valkyrian hymns," or into rhythm have dash'd
The passion of the prophetess; for song
Is duer unto freedom, force and growth
Of spirit, than to junketing and love.
125 Love is it ? Would this same mock love, and this
Mock Hymen, were laid up like winter bats.
Till all men grew to rate us at our worth,
Hot vassals to be beat, nor pretty babes
To be dandled,—no, but living wills, and spher'd
130 Whole ° in ourselves and owed to none. Enough!
But now to leaven play with profit, you.
Know you no song, the true growth of your soil.
That gives the manners of your countrywomen ? "
She spoke, and turn'd her sumptuous head with eyes
135 Of shining expectation fixt on mine.
Then, while I dragg'd my brains for such a song,
Cyril, with whom the bell-mouth'd glass had wrought.
Or master'd by the sense of sport, began ■
To troll a careless, careless tavern-catch
140 Of Moll and Meg, and strange experiences
Unmeet for ladies.' Florian nodded at him,
I frowning; Psyche flush'd and wann'd and shook;
The lilylike Melissa droop'd her brows.'
" Forbear," the Princess cried; " Forbear, sir," I;
145 And, heated thro' and thro' with wrath and love,
I smote him on the breast; he started up;
^ Because Poetry is meant for something higher ; so thought Milton when he in¬
voked Urania, the Heavenly Muse. Tennyson was not wholly sure of it.
^ The Valkyrs were the warlike maidens of the Norse mythology.
® i.e., perfect and self-centred like a sphere.
^ Shakespeare's Tempest (II., ii., 48) has a song about *' Moll and Meg," which is
rather unmeet for ladies.
® The hurried action is given by these loosely connected phrases.
Canto IV.]
A MEDLEY
53
There rose a shriek as of a city sack'd;
Melissa clanior'd, " Flee the death; " ' " To horse,"
Said Ida; " home! to horse! " and fled, as flies
150 A troop of snowy doyes athwart the dusk.
When some one batters at the doyecote doors.
Disorderly the women. Alone I stood
With Florian, cursing Cyril, yext at heart.
In the pavilion. There, like parting hopes,
155 I heard them passing from me; hoof by hoof.
And every hoof a knell to my desires,
Clang'd on the bridge; and then another shriek,
" The Head, the Head, the Princess, 0 the Head! "
For blind with rage she miss'd the plank, and roll'd
160 In the river. Out I sprang from glow to gloom.'
There whirl'd her white robe like a blossom'd branch
Eapt to the horrible fall. A glance I gave.
No more, but, woman-vested as I was,
Plung'd; and the flood drew; yet I caught her; then
165 Oaring one arm, and bearing in my left
The weight of all the hopes of half the world,'
Strove to buffet to land in vain. A tree
Was half-disrooted from his place and stoop'd
To drench his dark locks in the gurgling wave
170 Mid-channel. Eight on this we drove and caught.
And grasping down the boughs I gain'd the shore.
There stood her maidens glimmeringly group'd
In the hollow bank. One reaching forward drew
My burden from mine arms; they cried, " She lives! "
175 They bore her back into the tent. But I,
So much a kind of shame within me wrought,*
Not yet endur'd to meet her opening eyes,
* Melissa thought of them. ^ From the lighted tent into the evening.
^ The feminine half, as in II., 270.
* Perhaps at being caught in his stratagem.
54
THE PRINCESS
[Canto IV.
Nor found my friends; but push'd alone on foot
(For since her horse was lost I left her mine)
180 Across the woods, and less from Indian craft
Than beelike instinct hiveward, found at length
The garden portals. Two great statues, Art
And Science, caryatids, lifted up
A weight of emblem, and betwixt were valves '
185 Of openwork in which the hunter " rued
His rash intrusion, manlike, but his brows
Had sprouted, and the branches thereupon
Spread out at top, and grimly spik'd the gates.
A little space was left between the horns,
190 Thro' which I clamber'd o'er at top with pain,
Dropt on the sward, and up the linden walks.
And, tost on thoughts that chang'd from hue to hue.
Now poring on the glowworm, now the star,'
I pac'd the terrace, till the Bear had wheel'd
195 Thro' a great arc his seven slow suns.*
A step
Of lightest echo, then a loftier form
Thau female, moving thro' the uncertain gloom,
Disturb'd me with the doubt, " If this were she,"
But it was Florian. " Hist, 0 hist," he said,
200 " They seek us; out so late is out of rules.
Moreover, ' Seize the strangers ' is the cry.
How came you here ?" I told him. "I," said he,
" Last of the train, a moral leper, I,
To whom none spake, half sick at heart, return'd.
205 Arriving all confus'd among the rest.
With hooded brows I crept into the hall,
* Double doors.
' Acteon, who had spied upon Diana and was changed to a stag and destroyed by
his own dogs.
® Now looking down, now up.
* The seven stars of the Great Bear, or the Dipper.
Canto lY.]
A MEDLEY
55
And, crouch'd behind a Judith,' underneath
The head of Holofernes peep'd and saw.
Girl after girl was call'd to trial; each
210 Disclaim'd all knowledge of us. Last of all,
Melissa; trust me, sir, I pitied her.
She, question'd if she knew us men, at first
Was silent; closer prest, denied it not;
And then, demanded if her mother knew,
215 Or Psyche, she affirm'd not, or denied;
From whence the royal mind, familiar with her.
Easily gather'd either guilt." She sent
For Psyche, but she was not there; she call'd
For Psyche's child to cast it from the doors;
220 She sent for Blanche to accuse her face to face;
And I slipt out. But whither will you now ?
And where are Psyche ? Cyril ? both are fled.
What if together ? that were not so well.
Would rather we had never come! I dread
225 His wildness, and the chances of the dark."
" And yet," I said, " you wrong him more than I
That struck him. This is proper to the clown,'
Tho' smock'd, or furr'd and purpled, still the clown.
To harm the thing that trusts him, and to shame
230 That which he says he loves. For Cyril, howe'er
He deal in frolic, as to-night,—the song
Might have been worse and-sinn'd in grosser lips
Beyond all pardon,—as it is, I hold
These flashes on the surface are not he.
235 He has a solid base of temperament;
But as the water lily starts and slides
^ The story of Judith is from the Apocrypha: a woman who sacrificed herself to
destroy Holofernes, an enemy of her people.
2 the guilt of each.
^ Only a clown would harm one who trusts him.
56
THE PEINCESS
[Canto IV.
Upon the level in little puffs of wind,
Tho' anchor'd to the bottom,' such is he."
Scarce had I ceased when from a tamarisk near
340 Two proctors leapt upon us, crying, " Names! " '
He, standing still, was clutch'd ; but I began
To thrid the musky-circled mazes, wind
And double in and out the boles, and race
By all the fountains. Fleet I was of foot.
345 Before me shower'd the rose in ffakes; behind
I heard the puff'd pursuer; at mine ear
Bubbled the nightingale and "heeded not;
And secret laughter tickled all my soul.
At last I hook'd my ankle in a vine,
350 That claspt the feet of a Mnemosyne,
And falling on my face was caught and known.
They haled us to the Princess where she sat
High in the hall. Above her droop'd a lamp.
And made the single jewel on her brow
355 Burn like the mystic fire on a masthead.
Prophet of storm. A handmaid on each side
Bow'd toward her, combing out her long black hair
Damp from the river; and close behind her stood
Eight daughters of the plow, stronger than men,'
360 Huge women blowzed with health, and wind, and rain,
And labor. Each was like a Druid rock; '
Or like a spire of land that stands apart
Cleft from the main, and wail'd about with mews.'
Then, as we came, the crowd dividing clove
365 An advent' to the throne; and therebeside,
^ The figure is studied from nature, but not very olearte one who has not noticed
the same thing. ^ A reminiscence of the regular English college custom.
® The women were not all doves. e.Q-, those of Stonehenge.
® Some upright rock off the shore, with seamews flying about it.
® The concise generalized expression.
CANTO IV.] A MEDLEY
Half naked, as if caught at once from bed
And tumbled on the purple footclotb, lay
The lily-sbining child; and on the left,
Bow'd on her palms and folded up from wrong,
270 Her round white shoulder shaken with her sobs,
Melissa knelt; but Lady Blanche erect
Stood up and spake, an affluent ' orator :
" It was not thus, 0 Princess, in old days;
You priz'd my counsel, liv'd upon my lips.
275 I led you then to all the Castalies; '
I fed you with the milk of every Muse;
I lov'd you like this kneeler, and you me.
Your second mother.^ Those were gracious times.
Then came your new friend; you began to change,-
280 I saw it and griev'd,—to slacken and to cool;
Till, taken with her seeming openness.
You turn'd your warmer currents all to her.
To me you froze; this was my meed for all.
Yet I bore up, in part from ancient love,
285 And partly that I hop'd to win you back.
And partly conscious of my own deserts.
And partly that you were my civil ' head.
And chiefly you were born for something great.
In which I might your fellow-worker be,
290 When time should serve; and thus a noble scheme
Grew up from seed we two long since had sown ;
In us true growth, iu her " a Jonah's gourd.
Up in one night and due to sudden sun.
We took this palace; but even from the first
295 You stood in your own light and darken'd mine.
What student came but that you planed® her path
* rich, in words.
® as a mother.
® Lady Psyche.
^ Castalia was the fountain of the Muses.
* i.e., politically.
® made easier.
58 THE PEINCESS [Canto IV.
To Lady Psyche, younger, not so wise,
A loreigner, and I your countrywoman,
I your old friend and tried, she new in all ?
300 But still her lists were swell'd and mine were lean;
Yet I bore up in hope she would be known.
Then came these wolves. They knew her; they endur'd,'
Long closeted with her the yestermorn.
To tell her what they were, and she to hear;
305 And me none told. ISTot less to an eye like mine,
A lidless watcher of the public weal.
Last night their mask was patent, and my foot
Was to you; ® but I thought again; I fear'd
To meet a cold ' We thank you, we shall hear of it
310 Prom Lady Psyche.' You had gone to her.
She told, perforce; and winning easy grace,
No doubt, for slight delay, remain'd among us
In our young nursery still unknown, the stem
Less grain than touchwood; ' while my honest heat
315 Were all miscounted as malignant haste
To push my rival out of place and power.
But public use requir'd she should be known ;
And since my oath was ta'en for public use,
I broke the letter of it to keep the sense.
330 I spoke not then at first, but watch'd them well.
Saw that they kept apart, no mischief done;
And yet this day (tho' you should hate me for it)
I came to tell you; found that you had gone,
Eidd'n to the hills, she likewise. Now, I thought,
335 That surely she will speak; if not, then I.
Did she ? These monsters blazon'd what they were,'
According to the coarseness of their kind.
Por thus I hear; and known at last (my work).
And full of cowardice and guilty shame,—
' Remained. ® I meant to go to you.
® More rotten wood than soimd. * unmasked themselves.
Canto IV.]
A MEDLEY
59
330 I grant in her some sense of shame,—she flies;
And I remain on whom to wreak your rage,
I, that have lent my life to build up yours,
I, that have wasted here health, wealth, and time.
And talent, I—you know it—I will not boast.
335 Dismiss me, and I prophesy your plan,
Divore'd from my experience, will be chaff
For every gust of chance, and men will say
We did not know the real light, but chas'd
The wisp that flickers where no foot can tread." '
840 She ceas'd; the Princess answer'd coldly, " Good;
Your oath is broken. We dismiss you; go.
For this lost lamb (she pointed to the child)
Our mind is chang'd ; we take it to ourself.
Thereat the lady stretch'd a vulture throat,
345 And shot from crooked lips a haggard smile.
" The plan was mine. I built the nest," she said,
" To hatch the cuckoo.—Rise! " and stoop'd to updrag
Melissa. She, half on her mother propt.
Half drooping from her, turn'd hei face and cast
350 A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer.
Which melted Florian's fancy as she hung,
A Niobëan " daughter, one arm out.
Appealing to the bolts of Heaven; and while
We gaz'd upon her came a little stir
355 About the doors, and on a sudden rush'd
Among us, out of breath, as one pursu'd
A woman post in flyiog raiment. Fear '
Star'd in her eyes, and chalk'd her face, and wing'd
^ Lady Blanche was eloquent for nothing T there was something in her speech
that prevented its persuading the Princess.
^ The picture comes from a famous statue.
^ In this sentence as in that beginning in 1.141, we have rapid action, but the two
are very different.
60 THE PRINCESS [CANTO IV.
Her transit to the throne, whereby she fell,
360 Delivering seal'd dispatches which the Head
Took half amaz'd, and in her lion's mood
Tore open; silent we with blind surmise
Eegarding, while she read, till over brow
And cheek and bosom brake the wrathful bloom
365 As of some fire against a stormy cloud,
"When the wild peasant rights himself, the rick
Flames, and his anger reddens in the heavens;
For anger most it seemed, while now her breast.
Beaten with some great passion at her heart,
370 Palpitated, her hand shook, and we heard
In the dead hush the papers that she held
Rustle. At once the lost lamb at her feet
Sent out a bitter bleating for its dam.
The plaintive cry jarr'd on her ire; she crushed
375 The scrolls together, made a sudden turn
As if to speak, but, utterance failing her.
She whirl'd them on to me, as who should say,
" Read; " and I read—two letters, one her sire's:
" Fair daughter, when we sent the Prince your way
380 We knew not your ungracious laws, which learnt,"
We, conscious of what temper you are built.
Came all in haste to hinder wrong, but fell
Into his father's hands, who has this night.
You lying close upon his territory,
385 Slipt round and in the dark invested you.
And here he keeps me hostage for his son."
The second was my father's, running thus :
" You have our son; touch not a hair of his head;
Render him up unscath'd; give him your hand;
390 Cleave to your contract; tho' indeed we hear
* An absolute construction.
Canto IV.]
A MEDLEY
61
You hold the woman is the better man;
A rampant heresy,' such as if it spread
"Would make all women kick against their lords
Thro' all the world, and which might well deserve
395 That we this night should pluck your palace down;
And we will do it, unless you send us back
Our son, on the instant, whole."
So far I read;
And then stood up and spoke impetuously :
" Oh, not to pry and peer on your reserve,
400 But led by golden wishes, and a hope.
The child of regal compact,' did I break
Your precinct; not a scorner of your sex
But venerator, zealous it should be
All that it might be. Hear me, for I bear,
405 Tho' man, yet human, whatsoe'er your wrongs.
From the flaxen curl to the gray lock, a life '
Less mine than yours. My nurse would tell me of you ;
I babbled for you, as babies for the moon.
Vague brightness; when a boy, you stoop'd to me
410 From all high places, liv'd in all fair lights.
Came in long breezes rapt from inmost south
And blown to inmost north ; at eve and dawn
With Ida, Ida, Ida, rang the woods;
The leader wild swam in among the stars
415 Would clang ' it, and lapt in wreaths of glowworm light
The mellow breaker murmur'd ' Ida.' Now,
Because I would have reach'd you bad you been
Spher'd up with Cassiopeia,' or the entbron'd
Persephone in Hades," now at length,
^ The king's anger at the idea leads him to enlarge his abbreviated style.
® The hope was born of the old contract. ' object of bear.
* the same word as in III. 90. It is a not uncommon poetic word for the noise of
waterfowl. ® Cassiopeia's Chair is one of the constellations.
® i.e., had you been in heaven or hell.
62
THE PEINCESS
[Canto IV.
430 Those winters of abeyance all worn out,
A man I came to see you. But, indeed,
Not in this frequence ' can I lend full tongue,
0 noble Ida, to those thoughts that wait
On you, their center. Let me say but this,
435 That many a famous man and woman, town
And landskip," have I heard of, after seen
The dwarfs of presage; ° tho' when known, there grew
Another kind of beauty in detail
Made them worth knowing; but in you I found
430 My boyish dream involved and dazzled down
And master'd, while that after beauty makes
Such head from act to act, from hour to hour.
Within me, that except you slay me here.
According to your bitter statute book,
435 I cannot cease to follow you, as they say
The seal does music; who desire you more
Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips.
With many thousand matters left to do.
The breath of life; Oh, more than poor men wealth,
440 Than sick men health,—yours, yours, not mine,—but
half
Without you,—with you, whole,—and of those halves
You worthiest; and ho we'er you block and bar
Your heart with system out from mine, I hold
That it becomes no man to nurse despair,
445 But in the teeth of clench'd antagonisms
To follow up the worthiest till he die.
Yet that I came not all unauthoriz'd
Behold your father's letter."
On one knee
Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dash'd
450 Unopen'd at her feet. A tide of fierce
' crowded meeting. ^ Milton preferred this spelling.
® They seemed less than they really were, through having been eagerly anticipated.
CANTO IV.] A MEDLEY 63
Invective seem'd to wait behind her lips.
As waits a river level with the dam.
Ready to hurst and flood the world with foam.
And so she would have spoken, hut there rose
455 A huhhuh in the court of half the maids
Gather'd together. From the illumin'd hall
Long lanes of splendor slanted o'er a press
Of snowy shoulders thick as herded ewes,
And rainbow robes, and.gems and gemlike eyes,
460 And gold and golden heads. They to and fro
Fluctuated, as flowers in storm, some red, some pale.
All open-mouth'd, all gazing to the light,
Some crying there was an army in the land.
And some that men were in the very walls,
465 And some they car'd not; till a clamor grew
As of a new-world Babel, woman-built.
And worse confounded. High above them stood
The placid marble Muses, looking peace.
Hot peace she look'd, the Head; but rising up,
470 Rob'd in the long night of her deep hair,' so
To the open window mov'd, remaining there
Fixt like a beacon tower above the waves
Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling eye '
Glares ruin, and the wild birds on the light
475 Dash themselves dead. She stretch'd her arms and calTd
Across the tumult, and the tumult fell :
" What fear ye, brawlers ? am not I your Head ?
On me, me, me, the storm first breaks; T dare
All these male thunderbolts; what is it ye fear ?
480 Peace ! there are those to avenge us, and they come.
If not,—myself were like enough, 0 girls.
To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights.
* Her hair was loose: cf. 1. 257.
® a light-house with red light.
64
THE PRINCESS
[Canto IV.
And clad in iron burst the ranks of war/
Or, falling, protomartyr ' of our cause,
485 Die. Yet I blame you not so much for fear;
Six thousand years of fear have made you that
From which I would redeem you. But for those
That stir this hubbub "—^you and you—I know
Your faces there in the crowd—to-morrow morn
490 We hold a great convention; then shall they
That love their voices more than duty, learn
With whom they deal, dismiss'd in shame to live
No wiser than their mothers, household stuff.
Live chattels, mincers of each other's fame,
495 Full of weak poison, turnspits for the clown.
The drunkard's football, laughing stocks of Time,
Whose brains are in their hands and in their heels.
But * fit to fiaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum.
To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour,
500 Forever slaves at home and fools abroad."
She, ending, wav'd her hands; thereat the crowd.
Muttering, dissolv'd. Then with a smile, that look'd
A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff.
When all the glens are drown'd in azure gloom
505 Of thundershower, she fioated to us and said :
" You have done well and like a gentleman,"
And like a prince; you have our thanks for all.
And you look well too in your woman's dress;
Well have you done and like a gentleman.
510 You sav'd our life; we owe you bitter thanks.
Better have died and spilt our bones in the flood;
^ like the lady of the Prologue, 11. 32-48. ^ the first martyr.
^ There was an element which would have been glad to break up the college, II.
438-442. Í only.
® The Princess is aware of the various tones of oratory from enthusiasm to scorn.
Canto IV.] A MEDLEY 65
Then men had said—but now— What hinders me
To take such bloody yengeance on you both ?—
Yet since our father— Wasps in our good hive,
515 You would-be quenchers of the light to be.
Barbarians, grosser than your native bears—
Oh, would I had his * scepter for one hour !
You that have dar'd to break our bound, and gull'd
Our servants, wrong'd and lied and thwarted us—
520 I wed with thee ! I bound by precontract
Your bride, your bond slave! Not tho' all the gold
That veins the world were pack'd to make your crown.
And every spoken tongue should lord you. Sir,
Your falsehood and yourself are hateful to us;
525 I trample on your offers and on you.
Begone; we will not look upon you more.—
Here, push them out at gates."
In wrath she spake.
Then those eight mighty daughters of the plow
Bent their broad faces toward us, and address'd
530 Their motion. Twice I sought to plead my cause.
But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands.
The weight of destiny; so from her face
They push'd us, down the steps, and thro' the court.
And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates.
535 We cross'd the street and gain'd a petty mound
Beyond it, whence we saw the lights and heard
The voices murmuring. While I listen'd, came
On a sudden tho weird seizure and the doubt.
I seem'd to move among a world of ghosts;
540 The Princess with her monstrous woman-guard.
The jest and earnest working side by side.
The cataract and the tumult and the kings
Were shadows; and the long fantastic night
^ her father's.
66
THE PEINCESS
[Interlude
With all its doings had and had not been,
545 And all things were and were not.
This went by
As strangely as it came, and on my spirits
Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy.
Not long; I shook it off; for spite of doubts
And sudden ghostly shadowings, I was one
550 To whom the touch of all mischance but came
As night to him that, sitting on a hill.
Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun
Set into sunrise.1 Then we moved away.
INTBELUDB
Thy voice is heard thro' rolling drums.
That beat to battle where he stands;
Thy face across his fancy comes,
And gives the battle to his hands.
5 A moment, while the trumpets blow.
Be sees his brood about thy knee ;
The next, like fire he meets the foe,
And strikes him dead for thine and thee.
So Lilia sang; we thought her half possess'd,
10 She struck such warbling fury thro' the words;
And, after, feigning pique at what she call'd
The raillery, or grotesque, or false sublime,—
Like one that wishes at a dance to change
The music,—clapt her hands and cried for war,
15 Or some grand fight to kill and make an end.
And he that next inherited the tale "
Half turning to the broken statue, said,
" Sir Ealph has got your colors; if I prove
Your knight, and fight your battle, what for me ? "
^ Trouble was as momentary in its effect on him as the sunset of the midnight sun •
which never touches the horizon. ®.Cf. Prologue, 1. 221.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
67
30 It ohanc'd her empty glove upou the tomb
Lay by her like a model of her hand.
She took it and she flung it. " Fight," she said,
" And make us all we would be, great and good."
He, knightlike in his cap instead of casque,
35 A cap of Tyrol borrow'd from the hall,
Arrang'd the favor, and assum'd the Prince.'
CAHTO V.
Now, scarce three paces measur'd from the mound.
We stumbled on a stationary voice.
And " Stand, who goes ? " " Two from the palace," I.
" The second two; ' they wait," he said, " pass on;
5 His Highness wakes." And one, that clash'd in arms.
By glimmering lanes and walls of canvas led
Threading the soldier-city, till we heard
The drowsy folds of our great ensign shake
From blazon'd lions o'er the imperial tent
10 Whispers of war.
Entering, the sudden light
Dazed me half blind. I stood and seem'd to hear.
As in a poplar grove when a light wind wakes
A lisping of the innumerous' leaf, and dies.
Each hissing in his neighbor's ear; and then
15 A strangled titter, out of which there brake
On all sides, clamoring etiquette to death,*
TJnmeasur'd mirth; while now the two old kings
Began to wag their baldness up and down.
The fresh young captains flash'd their glittering teeth,
^ i.e., began, his part of the story.
^ Who were the first two appears later.
^ innumerable. But the word in the text harmonizes better with the idea.
^ They roared so with laughter that there was no regard for ceremony.
68
THE PRINCESS
[Canto V.
30 The huge bush-bearded barons heay'd and blew.
And slim with laughter roll'd the gilded squire.'
At length my sire, bis rough cheek wet with tears.
Panted from weary sides, " King, you are free!
We did but keep you surety for our son,'
25 If this be he,—or a draggled mawkin,' thou.
That tends her bristled grunters in the sludge; "
For I was drench'd with ooze, and torn with briers.
More crumpled than a poppy from the sheath.
And all one rag, disprinc'd from head to heel.
30 Then some one sent beneath his vaulted palm '
A whisper'd jest to some one near him, " Look,
He has been among his shadows." " Satan take
The old women and their shadows! "—thus the king
Eoar'd—" Make yourself a man to fight with men.
35 Go; Cyril told us all." ^
As boys that slink
From ferule and the trespass-chiding eye.
Away we stole, and transient ° in a trice
From what was left of faded woman-slough '
To sheathing ' splendors and the golden scale
40 Of harness, issu'd in the sun, that now
Leapt from the dewy shoulders of the Earth,
And hit the northern hills. Here Cyril met us,
A little shy at first, hut by and by
We twain, with mutual pardon ask'd and given
45 For stroke and song,° resolder'd peace, whereon
Follow'd his tale. Amaz'd he fled away
^ The abstract noun, but the plural would seem better, as agreeing with the pre¬
ceding construction.
^ It will be remembered that Gama was a prisoner, IV. 386.
a name for a slatternly woman,
^The hand over the mouth, in affectation of secrecy.
® a participial adjective. ® as if they sloughed off their woman's garments.
' i.e., of armor. one for the stroke, the other for the song.
CA.NTO v.] A MEDLEY 69
Thro' the dark land, and later in the night
Had come on Psyche weeping. " Then we fell
Into your father's hand, and there she lies,
50 But will not speak, nor stir."
He show'd a tent
A stone-shot off. We enter'd in, and there
Among piled arms and rough accoutrements.
Pitiful sight, wrapp'd in a soldier's cloak.
Like some sweet sculpture draped from head to foot,
55 And push'd by rude hands from its pedestal.
All her fair length upon the ground she lay;
And at her head a follower of the camp,
A charr'd and wrinkled piece of womanhood.
Sat watching like a watcher by the dead.
60 Then Florian knelt, and " Come," he whisper'd to her,
" Lift up your head, sweet sister; lie not thus.
What have you doné but right ? You could not slay
Me, nor your prince. Look up; be comforted.
Sweet is it to have done the thing one ought,
65 When fall'n in darker ways." And likewise I:
" Be comforted; have I not lost her too.
In whose least act abides the nameless charm
That none has else for me ? " She heard, she mov'd.
She moan'd, a folded voice; ' and up she sat,
70 And rais'd the cloak from brows as pale and smooth
As those that mourn half shrouded over death
In deathless marble.' " Her," she said, " my friend—
Parted from her—betray'd her cause and mine—
Where shall I breathe ? why kept ye not your faith ?
75 0 base and bad! what comfort ? none for me! "
To whom remorseful Cyril, " Yet I pray
Take comfort; live, dear lady, for your child! "
At which she lifted up her voice and cried :
' a voice muffled in folda. sculptured monuments.
70 the PEINCESS [Canto V.
" Ah me, my babe, my blossom! ab, my child,
80 My one sweet child, whom I shall see no more !
For now will cruel Ida keep her hack ;
And either she will die from want of care.
Or sicken with ill usage, when they say
' The child is hers ' '—for every little fault,
85 ' The child is hers ' ; and they will beat my girl,
Eemembering her mother. 0 my flower !
Or they will take her, they will make her hard.
And she will pass me by in after life
With some cold reverence worse than were she dead.
90 111 mother that I was to leave her there.
To lag behind, scar'd by the cry they made.
The horror of the shame among them all.
But I will go and sit beside the doors.
And make a wild petition night and day,
95 Until they hate to hear me like a wind
Wailing forever, till they open to me.
And lay my little blossom at my feet.
My babe, my sweet Aglaia, my one child!
And I will take her up and go my way,
100 And satisfy my soul with kissing her.
Ah! what might that man not deserve of me
Who gave me back my child! " " Be comforted,"
Said Cyril, " you shall have it." But again
She veil'd her brows, and prone she sank, and so
105 Like tender things that being caught feign death.
Spoke not, nor stirr'd.
By this a murmur ran
Thro' all the camp, and inward raced the scouts
With rumor of Prince Arac ' hard at hand.
We left her by the woman, and without
110 Found the gray kings at parle; ' and " Look you," cried
* They would remember that the child was Psyche's.
® The Princess' brother. ® talking together.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
71
My father, " that our compact be fulfill'd.
You haye spoilt this child; she laughs at you and man;
She wrongs herself, her sex, and me, and him.
But red-fac'd war has rods of steel and fire; '
115 She yields, or war."
Then Gama turn'd to me:
" We fear, indeed, you spent a stormy time
With our strange girl ; and yet they say that still
You love her. Give us, then, your mind at large;
How say you, war or not ? "
"Not war, if possible,
130 0 king," I said, " lest from the abuse of war.
The desecrated shrine, the trampled year.
The smoldering homestead, and the household flower
Torn from the lintel,—all the common wrong,
A smoke go up thro' which I loom to her
135 Three times a monster." Now she lightens scorn'
At him that mars her plan, hut then would hate
(And every voice she talk'd with ratify it.
And every face she look'd on justify it)
The general foe. More soluble is this knot
130 By gentleness than war. I want her love.
What were I nigher ' this altho' we dash'd
Your cities into shards with catapults?
She would not love; —or brought her chain'd, a slave.
The lifting of whose ' eyelash is my lord ?
135 Not ever would she love ; but brooding turn
The book of scorn, till all my flitting chance
Were caught within the record of her wrongs.
And crush'd to death. And rather, sire, than this
I would the old god of war himself were dead,
^ It can punish and compel.
2 She would hate him far worse were he cause of war.
^ Now she scorns the Prince for interfering with her plans, but then she would
hate him as the enemy of her people.
^ How much nearer. ® her is the antecedent.
72
THE PRINCESS
[Canto V.
140 Forgotten, rusting on his iron hills,
Eotting on some wild shore with ribs of wreck.
Or like an old-world mammoth bulk'd in ice,'
liot to be molten out."
And roughly spake
My father : " Tut, you know them not, the girls.
145 Boy, when I hear you prate I almost think
That idiot legend " credible. Look you, sir !
Man is the hunter ; woman is his game.
The sleek and shining creatures of the chase.
We hunt them for the beauty of their skins ;
150 They lore us for it, and we ride them down.
Wheedling and siding with them ! Out ! for shame !
Boy, there's no rose that's half so dear to them
As he that does the thing they dare not do.
Breathing and sounding beauteous battle, comes
155 With the air of the trumpet round him, and leaps in
Among the women, snares them by the score
Flatter'd and fluster'd, wins, tho' dash'd with death
He reddens what he kisses. Thus I won
Your mother, a good mother, a good wife,
160 Worth winning ; but this firebrand—gentleness
To such as her ! if Cyril spake her true.
To catch a dragon in a cherry net.
To trip a tigress with a gossamer,
Were wisdom to it.'"
" Yea, büt sire," I cried,
165 " Wild natures need wise curbs. The soldier ? Ho ;
What dares not Ida do that she should prize
The soldier ? ' I beheld her, when she rose
The yesternight, and storming in extremes
Stood for her cause, and fiung defiance down
^ the remnant of some older kind of existence.
' See I., 10. ^ It would be more foolish than these foolish things.
* She is not a flattered and flustered creature who would be fascinated by a soldier.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
lío Gagelike to man, and had not shunn'd the death,—
No, not the soldier's. Yet I hold her, king,
Trne woman ; but you clash them all in one.
That ' have as many differences as we.
The violet varies from the lily as far
175 As oak from elm. One loves the soldier, one
The silken priest of peace, one this, one that.
And some unworthily ; their sinless faith,
A maiden moon that sparkles on a sty.
Glorifying clown and satyr ; whence they need
180 More breadth of culture. Is not Ida right ?
They worth it ? truer to the law within ? '
Severer in the logic of a life ?
Twice as magnetic to sweet influences
Of earth and heaven ? And she of whom you speak
185 My mother, looks as whole ' as some serene
Creation minted in the golden moods
Of sovereign artists ; not a thought, a touch.
But pure as lines of green that streak the white
Of the first snowdrop's inner leaves ; I say,
190 Not like the piebald ' miscellany, man.
Bursts of great heart and slips in sensual mire.
But whole and one ; and take them all in all.
Were we ourselves but half as good, as kind.
As truthful, much that Ida claims as right
195 Had ne'er been mooted, but as frankly theirs
As dues of Nature. To our point : not war.
Lest I lose all."
" Nay, nay, you spake but sense,"
Said Gama. " We remember love ourself '
In our sweet youth ; we did not rate him then
200 This red-hot iron to be shap'd with blows.
^ Them is antecedent: who would be better than that.
^ Do they not follow more closely whatever ideal they have?
3 as perfect. ^ Good and bad, mixed. ® Cf. i., 121.
74
THE PBISrOESS
[Canto V.
You talk almost like Ida ; she can talk ;
And there is something in it as you say.
But you talk kindlier ; we esteem you for it.—
He seems a gracious and a gallant prince,'
205 I would he had our daughter. For the rest,"
Our own detention, why, the causes weigh'd.
Fatherly fears—you used us courteously—
We would do much to gratify your Prince—
We pardon it ; and for your ingress here
210 Upon the skirt and fringe of our fair land.
You did but come as goblins in the night.
Nor in the furrow broke the plowman's head.
Nor burnt the grange, nor buss'd the milking-maid.
Nor robb'd the farmer of his bowl of cream.
215 But let your Prince (our royal word upon it
He comes back safe) ride with us to our lines.
And speak with Arao; Arac's word is thrice
As ours " with Ida. Something may be done—
I know not what—and ours shall see us friends.
220 You, likewise, our late guests, if so you will.
Follow us. Who knows ? we four may build some plan
Foursquare to opposition.'
Here he reach'd
White hands of farewell to my sire, who growl'd
An answer which, half mufñed in his beard,
225 Let so much out as gave us leave to go.'
Then rode we with the old king across the lawns.
Beneath huge trees, a thousand rings of spring
In every bole, a song on every spray.
Of birds that piped their valentines, and woke
230 Desire in me to infuse my tale of love °
^ turning to the king. 2 Gama rather assumes the air of lord and master.
^ our word. ^ prepared on all sides.
® The king did not like it much, but could suggest nothing better.
® He could not help talking about it.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
75
In the old king's ears, who promis'd help, and ooz'd
All o'er with honey'd answer as we rode ;
And blossom fragrant slipt the heavy dews
Gather'd by night and peace, with each light air
235 On our mail'd heads. But other thoughts than peace
Burnt in us, when we saw the embattled squares
And squadrons of the Prince,' trampling the flowers
With clamor ; for among them rose a cry
As if to greet the king ; they made a halt ;
240 The horses yell'd ; they clash'd their arms ; the drum
Beat ; merrily blowing shrill'd the martial fife ;
And in the blast and bray of the long horn
And serpent-throated bugle, undulated
The banner. Anon to meet us lightly pranced
245 Three captains out ; nor ever had I seen
Such thews of men. The midmost and the highest
Was Arac ; all about his motion clung
The shadow of his sister, as the beam
Of the Bast, that play'd upon them, made them glance
250 Like those three stars of the airy Giant's zone,"
That glitter burnish'd by the frosty dark ;
And as the fiery Sirius alters hue.
And bickers into red and emerald, shone
Their morions, wash'd with morning, as they came."
255 And I that prated peace, when first I heard
War music, felt the blind wild beast of force,'
Whose home is in the sinews of a man.
Stir in me as to strike. Then took the king
His three broad sons ; with now a wandering hand
260 And now a pointed finger, told them all.
A common light of smiles at our disguise
Broke from their lips ; and, ere the windy jest
^ Arac, who had gathered an army to rescue his father and sister. ^ Orion.
' Their heliaets in the morning light. * Even the Prince became inspirited.
76
THE PRINCESS
[Canto V.
Had labor'd down within his ample lungs.
The genial giant, Arac, roll'd himself
365 Thrice in the saddle, then burst out in words :
" Our land invaded, 'sdeath ! and he himself
Your captive, yet my father wills not war ;
And, 'sdeath ! myself, what care I, war or no ?
But then this question of your troth remains ; '
270 And there's a downright honest meaning in her.
She flies too high, she flies too high ! and yet
She ask'd but space and fair play for her scheme.
She prest and prest it on me—I myself.
What know I of these things ? but, life and soul !
275 I thought her half right talking of her wrongs.
I say she flies too high, 'sdeath ! what of that ?
I take her for the flower of womankind.
And so I often told her, right or wrong.
And, Prince, she can be sweet to those she loves ;
280 And, right or wrong, I care not ; this is all :
I stand upon her side ; she made me swear it—
'Sdeath—and with solemn rites by candlelight—
Swear by St. something '—I forget her name—
Her that talk'd down the fifty wisest men ;
285 She was a princess too ; and so I swore.
Come, this is all ; she will not ; waive your claim.
If not, the foughten fleld, what else, at once
Decides it, 'sdeath ! against my father's will."
I lagg'd in answer, loath to render up
290 My precontract, and loath by brainless war
To cleave the rift of difference deeper yet ;
Till one of those two brothers, half aside,
^ All well enough except this question of marriage.
2 This saint was a Greek princess, Catharine of Alexandria, as learned as our
Princess. ^
Canto* v.]
A MEDLEY
77
And fingering at the hair about his lip.
To prick us on to combat : " Like to like !
395 The woman's garment hid the woman's heart,"—
A taunt that clench'd his purpose like a blow !
For fiery short was Cyril's counter-scoff.
And sharp I answer'd, touch'd upon the point
Where idle boys are cowards to their shame
300 " Decide it here : why not ? we are three to three."
Then spake the third: " But three to three? no more?
No more, and in our noble sister's cause ?
More, more, for honor ! Every captain waits
Hungry for honor, angry for his king.
305 More, more, some fifty on a side ! that each
May breathe himself, and quick, by overthrow
Of these or those, the question settled, die."
" Yea," answer'd I, " for this wild wreath of air.
This flake of rainbow flying on the highest
310 Foam of men's deeds,—this honor, if ye will !
It needs must be for honor if at all ;
Since, what decision ? If we fail, we fail.
And if we win, we fail ; she would not keep
Her compact." " 'Sdeath ! but we will send to her,"
315 Said Arac, " worthy reasons why she should
Bide by this issue ; let our missive thro'.
And you shall have her answer by the word."
"Boys!" shriek'd the old king, but vainlier than a hen
To her false daughters in the pool ; ' for none
330 Kegarded, neither seem'd there more to say.
Back rode we to my father's camp, and found
*The Prince tries to keep up the sensible modern idea of the senselessness of war,
but is quite unable to do so.
® ducklings which have been given her to hatch.
78 THE PRINCESS [CAÎTTO V.
He thrice had sent a herald to the gates,
To learn if Ida yet would cede our claim.
Or by denial flush her babbling wells
335 With her own people's life. Three times he went.
The flrst, he blew and blew, but none appear'd ;
He batter'd at the door ; none came. The next.
An awful voice within had warn'd him thence.
The third, and those eight daughters of the plow
380 Came sallying thro' the gates, and caught his hair.
And so belabor'd him on rib and cheek
They made him wild. Not less one glance he caught
Thro' open doors of Ida station'd there
Unshaken, clinging to her purpose, firm
335 The' compass'd by two armies and the noise
Of arms ; and standing like a stately pine
Set in a cataract on an island crag.
When storm is on the heights, and right and left,
Suck'd from the dark heart of the long hills, roll
340 The torrents, dash'd to the vale ; and yet her will
Bred will in me to overcome it or fall.
But when I told the king that I was pledg'd
To fight in tourney for my bride, he clash'd
His iron palms together with a cry ;
345 Himself would tilt it out among the lads ;
But overborne by all his bearded lords
With reasons drawn from age and state, perforce
He yielded, wroth and red, with fierce demur.
And many a bold knight started up in heat,
350 And sware to combat for my claim till death.
All on this side the palace ran the field
Flat to the garden wall ; and likewise here.
Above the garden's glowing blossom belts,'
^ flowering hedges.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
79
A column'd entry shone, and marble stairs,
355 And great bronze valves,' emboss'd with Tomyris"
And what she did to Cyrus after fight.
But now fast barr'd. So here upon the flat
All that long morn the lists were bammer'd up.
And all that morn the heralds to and fro,
360 "With message and defiance, went and came ;
Last, Ida's answer, in a royal hand.
But shaken here and there, and rolling words
Orationlike. I kiss'd it and I read :
" 0 brother,' you have known the pangs we felt,
365 What heats of indignation, when we heard
Of those that iron-cramp'd their women's feet ; '
Of lands in Which at the altar the poor bride
Gives her harsh groom for bridal gift a scourge ;
Of living hearts that crack within the fire
370 Where smolder their dead despots ; and of those—
Mothers—that, all prophetic pity, fling
Their pretty maids in the running flood,' and swoops
The vulture, beak and talon, at the heart
Made for all noble motion. And I saw
375 That equal baseness liv'd in sleeker ° times
With smoother men ; the old leaven leaven'd all ;
Millions of throats would bawl for civil rights,
No woman nam'd.' Therefore I set my face
Against all men, and liv'd but for mine own.
380 Par off from men I built a fold for them ;
I stor'd it full of rich memorial,
' VI., 59.
^ Tomyris was a Scythian queen, who conquered and killed Cyrus when he came
against her.
^ This letter from the Princess to Arac is sent as evidence of good faith.
^ The Chinese: the subsequent customs are Roman and Hindoo.
® I'hey throw their daughters in the Ganges for fear they may not marry,
more civilized.
^ Such was not the case a few years after the poem.
80 THE PRINCESS [Canto V.
I fenc'd it round with gallant institutes,
And biting laws to scare the beasts of prey.
And prosper'd ; till a rout of saucy boys
385 Brake on us at our books, and marr'd our peace,
Mask'd like our maids, blustering 1 know not what
Of insolence and love, some pretext held
Of baby troth, invalid, since my will
Seal'd not the bond '—the striplings !—for their sport !—
390 I tam'd my leopards ; shall I not tame these ?
Or you ? or I ? For since you think me toucb'd
In honor—what ! I would not aught of false—
Is not our cause pure ? And whereas I know
Your prowess, Arac, and what mother's blood
395 You draw from, fight ; you failing, I abide
What end soever ; " fail you will not/ Still,
Take not his life ; he risk'd it for my own ;
His mother lives ; yet whatsoe'er you do.
Fight and fight well ; strike and strike home. 0 dear
400 Brothers, the woman's angel guard you, you
The sole men to be mingled with our cause.
The sole men we shall prize in the after time.
Your very armor hallow'd, and your statues
liear'd, sung to, when, this gadfly brush'd aside,
405 We plant a solid foot into the time.
And mold a generation strong to move
With claim on claim from right to right, till she
Whose name is yok'd with children's, know herself ;
And Knowledge in our own land make her free,
410 And, ever following those two crowned twins.
Commerce and Conquest, shower the fiery grain
Of freedom broadcast over all that orbs
Between the northern and the southern morn.®
^ The contract was not valid until she had agreed to it.
^ She will agree to the result.
^ The whole circle of the earth.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
81
Then came a postscript dash'd across the rest :
415 " See that there be no traitors in your camp.
We ' seem a nest of traitors—none to trust
Since our arms fail'd—this Egypt-plague of men !
Almost our maids were better at their homes
Than thus man-girdled here. Indeed I think
430 Our chief est comfort is the little child °
Of one unworthy mother, which she left.
She shall not haye it back ; the child shall grow
To prize the authentic mother of her mind.
I took it for an hour in mine own bed
435 This morning ; there the tender orphan hands
Eelt at my heart, and seem'd to charm from thence
The wrath I nurs'd against the world. Earewell."
I ceas'd ; he ° said, " Stubborn, but she may sit
Upon a king's right hand in thunderstorms,
430 And breed up warriors ! See now, tho' yourself
Be dazzled by the wildfire Love to sloughs
That swallow common sense, the spindling king,"
This Gama swamp'd in lazy tolerance !
When the man wants weight, the woman takes it up,
435 And topples down the scales ; but this is fixt
As are the roots of earth and base of all :
Man for the field and woman for the hearth ^
Man for the S'vkrrd' and for the needle she ;
Man with the head and woman with the heart ;
440 Man to command and woman to obey ;
All else confusion. " Look you ! the gray mare
Is ill to live with, when her whinny shrills
From tile to scullery ; and her small goodman
Shrinks in his armchair, while the fires of hell
' accented. ' See Introd. P. xix. ' the king.
* Just look at this weakling Gama, says the king ; he shows how an unmanly man
makes an unwomanly woman, ® Society cannot otherwise exist.
82
THE PEIHCESS
[Canto V.
445 Mix with his hearth. ' But you—she's yet a colt—
Take, break her. Strongly groom'd and straitly curb'd
She might not rank with those detestable
That let the bantling scald at home, and brawl
Their rights or wrongs like potherbs in the street.
450 They say she's comely ; there's the fairer chance.
I like her none the less for rating at her !
Besides, the woman wed is not as we.
But suffers change of frame. A lusty brace
Of twins may weed her of her folly. Boy,
455 The bearing and the training of a child
Is woman's wisdom."
Thus the hard old king.
I took my leave, for it was nearly noon.
I por'd upon her letter which I held.
And on the little clause, " Take not his life ; "
460 I mus'd on that wild morning in the woods.
And on the "Follow, follow, thou shalt win
I thought on all the wrathful king had said.
And how the strange betrothment was to end.
Then I remember'd that burnt sorcerer's curse
465 That one should fight with shadows and should fall ;
And like a fiash the weird affection came :
King, camp, and college turn'd to hollow shows ;
I seem'd to move in old memorial tilts,'
And doing battle with forgotten ghosts,—
470 To dream myself the shadow of a dream ;
And ere I woke it was the point of noon.
The lists were ready. Empanoplied and plum'd
We enter'd in, and waited, fifty there
Oppos'd to fifty,' till the trumpet blar'd
* in the household of a virago. ® tournaments of some far-off time
® The tournament may be compared with the second day at Ashby de la Zouch in
Ivanhoe. Chap. XII.
Canto V.]
A MEDLEY
83
475 At the barrier like a wild horn in a land
Of echoes, and a moment, and once more
The trumpet, and again ; at which the storm
Of galloping hoofs bare on the ridge of spears
And riders front to front, until they closed
480 In conflict with the crash of shivering points.
And thunder.' Yet it seem'd a dream ; I dream'd
Of flghting. On his haunches rose the steed.
And into flery splinters leapt the lance.
And out of stricken helmets sprang the fire.
485 Part sat like rocks ; part reePd but kept their seats ;
Part roll'd on the earth and rose again and drew ;
Part stumbled mixt with floundering horses. Down
Prom those two bulks at Arac's side, and down
Prom Arac's arm, as from a giant's flail,
490 The large blows rain'd, as here and everywhere
He rode the mellay, lord of the ringing lists ;
And all the plain,—brand, mace, and shaft, and shield,—
Shock'd like an iron-clanging anvil bang'd
With hammers ; till I thought, can this be he
495 Prom Gama's dwarfish loins ? If this be so.
The mother makes us most. And in my dream
I glanc'd aside, and saw the palace front
Alive with fluttering scarfs and ladies' eyes ;
And highest, among the statues, statuelike,
500 Between a cymbal'd Miriam and a Jael,"
With Psyche's babe, was Ida watching us,
A single band of gold about her hair.
Like a saint's glory up in heaven. But she
Ho saint,—inexorable, no tenderness,—
505 Too hard, too cruel. Yet she sees me fight ;
Yea, let her see me fall ! With that I drave
^ Admirable lines ; note the movement and rhythm,
^ Miriam, the sister of Moses, led the Israelites in triumph after the passage of the
Red Sea. Jael killed Sisera the enemy of her people.
84
THE PEINCESS
[Canto V.
Among the thickest and bore down a prince.
And Cyril one. Yea, let me make my dream
All that I would. But that large-molded man,"
510 His visage all agrin as at a wake,'
Made at me thro' the press ; and, staggering back,
"With stroke on stroke the horse and horseman came.
As comes a pillar of electric cloud.
Flaying the roofs, and sucking up the drains,
515 And shadowing down the champaign till it strikes
On a wood, and takes, and breaks, and cracks, and splits.
And twists the grain with such a roar that Earth
Eeels, and the herdsmen cry ; for everything
Gave way before him. Only Florian, he
520 That lov'd me'closer than his own right eye,
Thurst in between ; but Arac rode him down.
And Cyril seeing it, push'd against the prince.
With Psyche's color round his helmet, tough.
Strong, supple, sinew-corded, apt at arms ;
525 But tougher, heavier, stronger, he that smote
And threw him. Last I spurr'd ; I felt my veins
Stretch with fierce heat ; a moment hand to hand.
And sword to sword, and horse to horse we hung,"
Till I struck out and shouted ; the blade glanc'd,
530 I did but shear a feather, and dream and truth
Flow'd from me ; darkness clos'd me, and I fell.
Home they brought her warrior dead ;
She nor swoon'd, nor utter'd cry ;
All her maidens, watching, said,
" She must weep or she will die."
Then they prais'd him, soft and lo,
Call'd him worthy to be loved.
Truest friend and noblest foe ;
Yet she neither spoke nor moved.
' Arao. a homely comparison : a wake was a time of jollity.
" a moment of suspense.
Canto VI.]
A MEDLEY
Stole a maiden from lier place,
Lightly to the warrior stept,
Took the face cloth from the face ;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.
Rose a nurse of ninety years,
Set his child upon her knee ;
Like summer tempest came her tears—
" Sweet my child, I live for thee."
CANTO VI.
My dream had never died, or liv'd again.
As in some mystic middle state I lay ;
Seeing, I saw not, hearing not, I heard ;
Tho', if I saw not, yet they told me all
5 So often that I speak as having seen.
For so it seem'd, or so they said to me.
That all things grew more tragic and more strange
That when our side was vanquish'd and my cause
Forever lost, there went up a great cry,
10 " The Prince is slain." My father heard and ran
In on the lists, and there unlac'd my casque.
And grovel'd on my body ; and after him
Came Psyche, sorrowing for Aglaia.
But high upon the palace Ida stood
15 With Psyche's babe in arm. There on the roofs.
Like that great dame of Lapidoth ' she sang : '
" Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n. The seed.
The little seed they laugh'd at in the dark.
Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown a bulk
20 Of spanless girth, that lays on every side
A thousand arms and rushes to the sun.
^ Deborah; See Judges IV. 4.
2 Cf. iv., 122.
86
THE PRINCESS
[Canto VI.
" Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n. They came;
The leaves were wet with women's tears ; they heard
A noise of songs they would not understand ;
25 They mark'd it with the red cross ' to the fall,
And would have strown it, and are fall'n themselves.
" Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n. They came.
The woodmen with their axes ; lo the tree !
But we will make it fagots for the hearth,"
30 And shape it plank and beam for roof and floor.
And boats and bridges for the use of men.
" Our enemies have fall'n, have fall'n. They struck;
With their own blows they hurt themselves, nor knew
There dwelt an iron nature in the grain ;
35 The glittering ax was broken in their arms.
Their arms were shatter'd to the shoulder blade.
" Our enemies have fall'n ; but this shall grow '
A night of summer from the heat, a breadth
Of autumn dropping fruits of power ; and roll'd
40 With music in the growing breeze of time,
The tops shall strike from star to star, the fangs
Shall move the stony bases of the world.
" And now, 0 maids, behold our sanctuary
Is violate, our laws broken. Fear we not
45 To break tbem more in their behoof whose arms
Champion'd our cause, and won it with a day
Blanch'd in our annals,' and perpetual feast
When dames and heroines of the golden year
Shall strip a hundred hollows bare of spring,
50 To rain an April of ovation round
Their statues, borne aloft, the three. But come.
We will be liberal, since our rights are won.
' as trees are marked for cutting.
^ This was the woodsman's idea; symbolic, of course, of what Ida considered the
desire of the Prince.
® The tree shall grow to give a shade as of night to those that need it.
^ The day to be marked with a white stone.
Canto VI.] A MEDLEY 87
Let them not lie in the tents with coarse mankind,
III nurses ; but descend, and profEer these
55 The brethren of our blood and cause, that there
Lie hruis'd and maim'd, the tender ministries
Of female hands and hospitality."
She spoke, and with the babe yet in her arms,
Descending, burst the great bronze Talves, and led
60 A hundred maids in train across the park.
Some cowl'd and some bare-headed, on they came.
Their feet in flowers, her loveliest. By them went
The enamor'd air sighing, and on their curls
From the high tree the blossom wavering fell,
65 And over them the tremulous isles of light '
Slided, they moving under shade. But Blanche
At distance follow'd. So they came. Anon
Thro' open field into the lists they wound
Timorously ; and as the leader of the herd,
70 That holds a stately fretwork ' to the sun.
And followed up by a hundred airy does.
Steps with a tender foot, light as on air.
The lovely, lordly creature floated on
To where her wounded brethren lay ; there stay'd ;
75 Knelt on one knee,—the child on one,—and prest
Their hands, and call'd them dear deliverers.
And happy warriors, and immortal names.
And said, "You shall not lie in the tents but here,"
And nurs'd by those for whom you fought, and serv'd
80 _With female hands and hospitality."
Then, whether moved by this,—or was it chance,—
She passed my way. Up started from my side
The old lion,* glaring with his whelpless eye.
* made by the sun shining through leaves and branches. s his antlers,
® within the college. ^ his father: Cf. 1.113.
88
THE PRINCESS
[Canto VL
Silent. But when she saw me lying stark,
85 Dishelm'd and mute, and motionlessly pale.
Odd ev'n to her, she sigh'd ; and when she saw
The haggard father's face and reverend beard
Of grisly twine all dabbled with the blood
Of his own son, shudder'd, a twitch of pain
90 Tortur'd her mouth, and o'er her forehead past
A shadow, and her hue chang'd, and she said ;
" He sav'd my life ; my brother slew him for it ; "
No more ; at which the king in bitter scorn
Drew from my neck the painting and the tress,'
95 And held them up. She saw them, and a day
Eose from the distance on her memory.
When the good queen, her mother, shore the tress
With kisses, ere the days of Lady Blanche.
And then once more she look'd at my pale face ;
100 Till, understanding all the foolish work
Of fancy,' and the bitter close of all.
Her iron will was broken in her mind ;
Her noble heart was molten in her breast.
She bow'd ; she set the child on the earth ; she laid
105 A feeling finger on my brows,' and presently,
" 0 sire," she said, " he lives ; he is not dead ;
0 let me have him with my brethren here
In our own palace. We will tend on him
Like one of these ; * if so, by any means,
110 To lighten this great clog ' of thanks that make
Our progress falter to the woman's goal."
She said ; but at the happy word " he lives "
My father stoop'd, refather'd," o'er my wounds.
So those two foes above my fallen life.
^ of herself.
^ with knowledge of medicine.
® She owed him something.
^ i.e., her own.
* of her own side.
® He had been " whelpless."
Canto VI.] A MEDLEY
115 With brow to brow, like night and evening, mixt
Their dark and gray, while Psyche ever stole
A little nearer ; till the babe that by us,
Half-lapt in glowing gauze and golden brede.
Lay like a new-fall'n meteor on the grass,
130 Uncar'd for, spied its mother and began
A blind and babbling laughter, and to dance
Its body, and reach its fatling innocent arms
And lazy lingering fingers. She the appeal
Brook'd ' not, but clamoring out, " Mine—mine—r
yours,
135 It is not yours, but mine ; give me the child,"
Ceas'd all on tremble ; piteous was the cry.
So stood the unhappy mother open-mouth'd.
And turn'd each face her way. Wan was her cheek
With hollow watch, her blooming mantle torn,
130 Bed grief and mother^s hunger in her eye,
And down dead-heavy sank her curls, and half
The sacred mother's bosom, panting, burst
The laces toward her babe ; but she nor car'd
Hor knew it, clamoring on, till Ida heard,
135 Look'd up, and rising slowly from me, stood
Erect and silent, striking with her glance
The mother, me, the child. But he that lay
Beside us, Cyril, batter'd as he was,
Trail'd himself up on one knee ; then he drew ■■
140 Her robe to meet his lips, and down she look'd
At the arm'd man sideways, pitying as it seem'd.
Or self-involv'd ; ' but when she learnt his face,
Eemembering his ill-omen'd song, arose
Once more thro' all her height, and o'er him grew
145 Tall as a figure lengthen'd on the sand
When the tide ebbs in sunshine ; and he said :
^ endured.
" confused within herself.
^ Note the meter.
90
THE PRINCESS
[Canto VI,
" 0 fair and strong and terrible ! Lioness
That with your long locks play the lion's mane !
But Love and Nature, these are two more terrible
150 And stronger. See, your foot is on our necks.
We vanquish'd, you the victor of your will.
What would you more ? Give her the child! Eemain
Orb'd ' in your isolation. He is dead.
Or all as dead ; henceforth we let you be.
155 Win you the hearts of women ; and beware
Lest, where you seek the common love of these.
The common hate with the revolving wheel
Should drag you down,^ and some great Nemesis '
Break from a darken'd future, crown'd with fire,
160 And tread you out forever. But howsoe'er
Bix'd in yourself, never in your own arms
To hold your own/ deny riot hers to her ;
Give her the child ! Oh if, I say, you keep
One pulse that beats true woman, if you loved
165 The breast that fed or arm that dandled you.
Or own one port ® of sense not flint to prayer.
Give her the child ! Or if you scorn to lay it
Yourself in hands so lately claspt with yours.
Or speak to her, your dearest, her one fault
170 The tenderness, not yours," that could not kill.
Give me it] I will give it her."
He said.
At first her eye with slow dilation rolTd
Dry flame, she listening ; after,' sank and sank
And, into mournful twilight mellowing, dwelt
175 Full on the child. She took it : " Pretty bud !
Lily of the vale ! half-open'd bell of the woods !
' perfect, but used, perhaps, with recollection of Lat. orha, bereft.
^ lest -when she sought to help them she should harm them, and so be hated instead
of loved. ® some retributive justice.
^ your own child. ® portal, access.
® The Princess could not have had such a fault. ^ afterward.
Canto VI.]
A MEDLEY
91
Sole comfort of my dark hour, when a world
Of traitorous friend and broken system made
lío purple in the distance ! mystery,
180 Pledge of "a love not to be mine, farewell !
These men are hard upon us as of old ;
We two must part ; and yet how fain was I
To dream thy cause embraced in mine, to think
I might be something to thee, when I felt
185 Thy helpless warmth about my barren breast
In the dead prime. ' But may thy mother prove
As true to thee as false, false, false to me !
And, if thou needs must bear the yoke, I wish it
Gentle as freedom "—here she kiss'd it ; then—■
190 "■ All good go with thee !—Take it, sir," and so.
Laid the soft babe in his hard-mailed hands.
Who turn'd half round to Psyche as she sprang
To meet it, with an eye that swum in thanks.
Then felt it sound and whole from head to foot,
195 And hugg'd and never hugg'd it close enough.
And in her hunger mouth'd and mumbled it.
And hid her bosom with it ; after that
Put on more calm, and added suppliantly :
" We two were friends. I go to mine own land
200 Forever ; find some other. As for me,
I scarce am fit for your great plans ; yet speak to me.
Say one soft word and let me part forgiven." "
But Ida spoke not, rapt upon the child.
Then Arac : " Ida—'sdeath ! you blame the man ;
205 You wrong yourselves—the woman is so hard
Upon the woman. Gome, a grace to me !
^ The hour of prime was originally the first hour after sunrise.
^ These different speeches of course have character. The disjointed words of
Psyche, the directness of Arac, the senility of Gama.
92 THE PEINCBSS [Canto VI.
I am your warrior ; I and mine have fought
Your battle ; kiss her ; take her hand, she weeps ;
'Sdeath ! I would sooner fight thrice o'er than see it."
210 But Ida spoke not, gazing on the ground ;
And reddening in the furrows of his chin.
And mov'd beyond his custom. Gama said :
"I've heard that there is iron in the blood.
And I believe it. Not one word ? not one ?
215 Whence drew you this steel temper ? Not from me ;
Not from your mother, now a saint with saints.
She said you had a heart—I heard her say it—
'Our Ida has a heart'—just ere she died—
' But see that some one with authority
220 Be near her still ; ' and I—I sought for one—
All people said she had authority—
The Lady Blanche ; much profit ! Not one word ?
No ! tho' your father sues. See how you stand
Stiff as Lot's wife,' and all the good knights maim'd—
225 I trust that there is no one hurt to death—
For your wild whim. And was it then for this.
Was it for this we gave our palace up.
Where we withdrew from summer heats and state.
And had our wine and chess beneath the planes,
230 And many a pleasant hour with her that's gone,'
Ere you were born to vex us ? Is it kind ?
Speak to her, I say. Is this not she of whom.
When first she came, all fiush'd you said to me
Now had you got a friend of your own age,
235 Now could you share your thought, now should men see
Two women faster welded in one love
Than pairs of wedlock ? she you walk'd with, she
* The pillar of salt.
^ He had used the palace, he thought, to better purpose.
Canto VI.]
A MEDLEY
93
You talk'd with, whole nights long, up in the tower.
Of sine and arc, spheroid and azimuth,
340 And right ascension,'—Heaven knows what. And now
A word, but one, one little kindly word.
Not one to spare her ! Out upon you, flint !
You love nor her, nor me, nor any ; nay.
You shame your mother's judgment too." Not one ?
245 You will not ? Well—no heart have you, or such
As fancies, like the vermin in a nut.
Have fretted all to dust and bitterness."
So said the small king, moved beyond his wont.
But Ida stood, nor spoke, drain'd of her force
350 By many a varying influence and so long.
Down thro' her limbs a drooping languor wept ;
Her head a little bent ; and on her month
A doubtful smile dwelt like a clouded moon
In a still water. Then brake out my sire,
355 Lifting his grim head from my wounds : " 0 you.
Woman, whom we thought woman even now.
And were half fool'd to let you tend our son.
Because he might have wish'd it—but we see
The accomplice of your madness unforgiven,
360 And think that you might mix his draught with death,"
When your skies change again ; the rougher hand
Is safer. On to the tents ; take up the Prince."
He rose, and while each ear was prick'd to attend
A tempest, thro' the cloud that dimm'd her broke
265 A genial warmth and light once more, and shone
Thro' glittering drops on her sad friend :
" Come hither,
0 Pysche," she cried out, " embrace me, come,
^Trigonometric and astronomic terras; but one need not know their meaning
more than Gama did.
^ You have no heart. ^ The old king carried it rather far.
94 THE PKINCESS [Canto VI.
Quick, while I melt ; make reconcilement sure
With one that cannot keep her mind an hour.
370 Come to the hollow ' heart they slander so !
Kiss and be friends, like children being chid !
I see no more ; I want forgiveness too.
I should have had to do with none but maids
That have no links with men. Ah, false but dear,
375 Dear traitor, too much loved, why ?—why ? Yet see.
Before these kings we embrace you yet once more
With all forgiveness, all oblivion.
And trust, not love, you less.
And now, 0 sire.
Grant me your son, to nurse, to wait upon him,
380 Like mine own brother. For my debt to him.
This nightmare weight of gratitude, I know it ;
Taunt me no more. Yourself and yours shall have
Free adit." We will scatter all our maids
Till happier times, each to her proper hearth ;
385 What use to keep them here—now? Grant my prayer.—
Help, father, brother, help ; speak to the king ;
Thaw this male nature to some touch of that °
Which kills me with myself, and drags me down
From my fixt height to mob me up ' with all
390 The soft and milky rabble of womankind.
Poor weakling ev'n as they are."
Passionate tears
Follow'd. The king replied not ; Cyril said :
" Your brother. Lady,—Florian,—ask for him
Of your great Head,—for he is wounded too,—
395 That you may tend upon him with the Prince."
" Ay so," said Ida, with a bitter smile,
" Our laws are broken ; let him enter too."
Then Violet, she that sang the mournful song.
^ with nothing in it.
^ i.e., some natural feeling.
® entrance.
* make me one of a crowd.
CANTO VI.] A MEDLEY 95
And had a cousin tumbled on the plain^
300 Petition'd too for him. " Ay so," she said,
" I stagger in the stream ; I cannot keep
My heart an eddy from the brawling hour; '
We break our laws with ease, but let it be."
" Ay so ?" said Blanche. " Amaz'd am I to hear
305 Your Highness ; but your Highness breaks with ease
The law your Highness did not make ; 'twas I.
I had been wedded wife, I knew mankind.
And block'd them out ; but these men came to woo
Your Highness—verily I think to win."
310 So she, and turn'd askance a wintry " eye.
But Ida, with a voice that like a bell
Toll'd by an earthquake in a trembling tower,
Eang ruin, answer'd full of grief and scorn :
" Fling our doors wide ! all, all, not one, but all !
315 Hot only he, but, by my mother's soul.
Whatever man lies wounded, friend or foe.
Shall enter, if he will. Let our girls flit.
Till the storm die ! But had you stood by us.
The roar that breaks the Pharos ' from his base
330 Had left us rock.—She ' fain would sting us too.
But shall not.—Pass, and mingle with your likes.
We brook no further insult, but are gone."
She turn'd ; the very nape of her white neck
Was rosed with indignation. But the prince
335 Her brother came ; the king her father charm'd
Her wounded soul with words ; nor did mine own
Eefuse her proffer, lastly gave his hand.
^ it has to go with the current. ^ cold.
^ Even such a storm as would overthrow a lighthouse.
* She speaks of Blanche, no longer to her.
96 THE PRINCESS [CANTO VI.
Then us they lifted up, dead weights, and bare
Straight to the doors. To them the doors gave way
330 Groaning, and in the vestal entry shriek'd
The virgin marble under iron heels ;
And on they moved and gain'd the hall, and there
Eested ; but great the crush was, and each base.
To left and right, of those tall columns drown''d
335 In silken fluctuation and the swarm
Of female whisperers. At the further end
Was Ida by the throne, the two great cats
Close by her, like supporters on a shield,
Bow-back'd with fear. But in the center stood
340 The common men with rolling eyes ; amaz'd
They glar'd upon the women, and aghast
The women star'd at thèse, all silent, save
When armor clash'd or jingled ; while the day.
Descending, struck athwart the hall, and shot
345 A flying splendor out of brass and steel
That o'er the statues leapt from head to head,
Now fired an angry Pallas on the helm.
Now set a wrathful Dian's ' moon on flame.
And now and then an echo started up,
350 And shuddering fled from room to room, and died
Of fright in far apartments.
Then the voice
Of Ida sounded, issuing ordinance ;
And me they bore up the broad stairs, and thro'
The long-laid galleries, past a hundred doors,
355 To one deep chamber shut from sound, and due
To languid limbs and sickness ; " left me in it ;
And others otherwhere they laid ; and all
That afternoon a sound arose of hoof
* The virgin goddesses are no longer complacent.
2 It was the college hospital.
Canto VII.]
A MEDLEY
97
And chariot, many a maiden passing home
360 Till happier times. But some were left of those
Held sagest, and the great lords out and in,
From those two hosts that lay beside the walls,
Walk'd at their will, and everything was chang'd.
Ask me no more : the moon may draw the sea;
The cloud may stoop from heaven and take the shape,
With fold to fold, of mountain or of cape ;
But 0 too fond, when have I answer'd thee î
Ask me no more.
Ask me no more : what answer should I give?
I love not hollow cheek or faded eye ;
Yet, 0 my friend, I will not have thee diel
Ask me no more, lest I should bid thee live ;
Ask me no more.
Ask me no more : thy fate and mine are seal'd ;
I strove against the stream and all in vain ;
Let the great river take me to the main.
No more, dear love, for at a touch I yield;
Ask me no more.
CANTO VII.
So was their sanctuary violated.
So their fair college turn'd to hospital ;
At first with all confusion ; by and by
Sweet order liv'd a,gain with other laws ;
5 A kindlier ' infiuence reign'd ; and everywhere
Low voices, with the ministering hand.
Hung round the sick. The maidens came, they talk'd.
They sang, they read; till she not fair began
To gather light, and she that was, became
10 Her former beauty treble; and to and fro
With books, with flowers, with angel offices,
^ more natural, according to the older meaning of the word.
98
THE PRINCESS
[Canto VII.
Like creatures natiye unto gracious act,'
And in their own clear element, they moved.
But sadness on the soul of Ida fell,
15 And hatred of her weakness, blent with shame.
Old studies fail'd; seldom she spoke ; but oft
Clomb to the roofs, and gaz'd alone for hours
On that disastrous leaguer, swarms of men
Darkening her female field." Void was her use,"
20 And she as one that climbs a peak to gaze
O'er land and main, and sees a great black cloud
Drag inward from the deeps,^ a wall of night.
Blot out the slope of sea from verge to shore.
And suck the blinding splendor from the sand,
25 And, quenching lake by lake and tarn by tarn.
Expunge the world. So fared she gazing there ;
So hlacken'd all her world in secret; ° blank
And waste it seem'd and vain ; till down she came.
And found fair peace once more among the sick.
30 And twilight dawn'd, and morn by morn the lark
Shot up and shrill'd in dickering gyres, but I
Lay silent in the muffled cage of life; °
And twilight gloom'd; and, broader grown, the bowers
Drew the great night into themselves, and heaven,
35 Star after star, arose and fell; ' but I,
Deeper than those weird doubts could reach me, lay
Quite sunder'd from the moving universe,
Nor knew what eye was on me, nor the hand
That nurs'd me, more than infants in their sleep.
^ i.e., as thougli this were their true business.
^ the armies encamped around.
^ Her common occupations seemed without meaning.
^ another figure set down in presence of the object suggesting it.
® All her old ideas lost clearness and light.
® As a bird thinks it night when the cage is covered.
i G., evening and morning he lay unconscious.
Canto VII.]
A MEDLEY
99
40 But Psyche tended Pierian. With her oft,
Melissa came ; for Blanche had gone, but left
Her child among us, willing she should keep
Court-favor. Here and there the small bright head,
A light of healing, glanc'd about the couch,
45 Or thro' the parted silks the tender face
Peep'd, shining in upon the wounded man
With blush and smile, a medicine in themselves
To wile the length from languorous hours, and draw
The sting from pain. Nor seem'd it strange that soon
50 He rose up whole, and those fair charities
Join'd at her ^ide ; nor stranger seem'd that hearts
So gentle, so employ'd, should close in love.
Than when two dewdrops on the petal shake
To the same sweet air, and tremble deeper down,
55 And slip at once all fragrant into one.
Less prosperously the second suit obtain'd
At first with Psyche. Not tho' Blanche ' had sworn
That after that dark night among the fields
She needs must wed him for her own good name,
60 Not tho' he built upon the babe restor'd,'
Nor tho' she lik'd him, yielded she, but fear'd
To incense the Head once more ; till on a day
When Cyril pleaded, Ida came behind.
Seen but of Psyche ; on her foot she hung
65 A moment, and she heard, at which her face
A little fiush'd, and she past on ; but each
Assum'd from thence a half-consent involv'd
In stillness, plighted troth, and were at peace.
Nor only these ; Love in the sacred halls
70 Held carnival at will, and flying struck
With showers of random sweet on maid and man.
^ She naturally suggested the disagreeable side.
^ took all the advantage he could.
THE PEINCESS
[Canto Vll.
Nor did her father cease to press my claim,
Nor did mine own, now reconcil'd ; nor yet
Did those twin brothers, risen again and whole ;
Nor Arac, satiate with his yictory.
But I lay still, and with me oft she sat.
Then came a change ; for sometimes I would catch
Her hand in wild delirium, gripe it hard.
And fling it like a vipêr off, and shriek,
" You are not Ida ! " clasp it once again.
And call her Ida, tho' I knew her not.
And call her sweet, as if in irony,
And call her hard and cold, which seemed a truth.
And still she fear'd that I should lose my mind.
And often she believ'd that I should die ;
Till, out of long frustration of her care.
And pensive tendance in the all-weary noons.
And watches in the dead, the dark, when clocks
Throbb'd thunder ' thro' the palace floors, calTd
On flying Time from all their silver tongues ;
And out of memories of her kindlier ' days.
And sidelong glances at my father's grief.
And at the happy lovers, heart in heart ;
And out of hauntings of my spoken love.
And lonely listenings to my mutter'd dream.
And often feeling of the helpless hands.
And wordless broodings on the wasted cheek,—
Prom all a closer interest flourish'd up.
Tenderness, touch by touch, and last, to these.
Love, like an Alpine harebell hung with tears
By some cold morning glacier ; frail at flrst
And feeble, all unconscious of itself.
But such as gather'd color day by day.'
When it was so still that the ticking of clocks seemed loud. ^ Cf. 1. 5.
He remained unconscious until everything had become favorable.
Canto VII.]
A MEDLEY
101
Last I woke sane, but well-nigh close to death
105 For weakness. It was evening ; silent light
Slept on the painted walls, wherein were wrought
Two grand designs,' for on one side arose
The women up in wild revolt, and storm'd
At the Oppian law." Titanic shapes, they cramm'd
110 The forum, and, half crush'd among the rest,
A dwarf-like Cato " cower'd. On the other side
Hortensia ' spoke against the tax ; behind,
A train of dames ; by axe and eagle sat.
With all their foreheads drawn in Eoman scowls,
115 And half the wolf's milk curdled in their veins.
The fierce triumvirs ; ° and before them paused
Hortensia, pleading ; angry was her face.
I saw the forms ; I knew not where I was ;
They did but look like hollow shows ; nor more
120 Sweet Ida. Palm to palm she sat ; the dew
Dwelt in her eyes, and softer all her shape.
And rounder, seem'd. I mov'd ; I sigh'd ; a touch
Came round my wrist, and tears upon my hand.
Then all for languor and self-pity ran
125 Mine down my face, and with what life I had.
And like a flower that cannot all unfold—
So drench'd it is with tempest—to the sun.
Yet, as it may, turns toward him, I on her
Fixt my faint eyes, and utter'd whisperingly :
130 " If you be what I think you, some sweet dream,
I would but ask you to fulfill yourself ;
* Tennyson's descriptions are very pictorial.
2 The women gained the repeal of a law which had prevented their wearing pretty
clothes. ^ One of the Consuls whom they compelled.
* The daughter of a famous Roman orator, herself said to have spoken eloquently
on the occasion in question.
® Antony, Octavius, Lepidus, as in-Julius Caesar, IV., 1.
102 THE PRINCESS [CANTO VII.
But if you be that Ida whom I knew,
I ask you nothing ; only, if a dream.
Sweet dream, be perfect. I shall die to-night.
135 Stoop down and seem ' to kiss me ere I die."
I could no more, but lay like one in tranee.
That hears his burial talk'd of by his friends.
And cannot speak, nor move, nor make one sign.
But lies and dreads his doom. She turn'd ; she paus'd ;
140 She stoop'd ; and out of languor leapt a cry ;
Leapt fiery Passion from the brinks of death ;
And I believ'd that in the living world
My spirit closed with Ida's at the lips ;
Till back I fell, and from mine arms she rose
145 Glowing all over noble shame ; and all
Her falser self slipt from her like a robe.
And left her woman, lovelier in her mood
Than in her mold that other,' when she came
Prom barren deeps to conquer all with love ;
150 And down the streaming crystal dropt ; and she
Far-fleeted by the purple island sides,
Naked, a double light in air and wave.
To meet her Graces, where they deck'd her out
For worship without end. Nor end of mine,
155 Stateliest, for thee ! But mute she glided forth.
Nor glanc'd behind her, and I sank and slept,
Fill'd thro' and thro' with love, a happy sleep.
Deep in the night I woke ; she, near me, held
A volume of the Poets of her land.
160 There to herself, all in low tones, she read :
^ Because you are all seeming.
® All her exaggerated intellectuality.
® Aphrodite, goddess of love, who rose from the sea.
Canto VII.]
A MEDLEY
103
" Now sleeps the crimson petal, now the white ; '
Nor waves the cypfess in the palace walk ;
Nor winks the gold fin in the porphyry font.
The firefly wakens ; waken thou with me.
1(55 "Now droops the milk-white peacock like a ghost,
And like a ghost she glimmers on to me.
" Now lies the Earth all Danaë to the stars, '
And all thy heart lies open unto me.
" Now slides the silent meteor on, and leaves
170 A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in me.
" Now folds the lily all her sweetness up.
And slips into the bosom of the lake ;
So fold thyself, my dearest; thou, and slip
Into my bosom and be lost in me."
175 I heard her turn the page ; she found a small
Sweet idyl, and once more, as low, she read :
"Come down, 0 maid, from yonder mountain height ;
What pleasure lives in height (the shepherd sang).
In height and cold, the splendor of the hills ?
180 But cease to move so near the heavens, and cease
To glide, a sunbeam, by the blasted pine.
To sit, a star, upon the sparkling spire ;
And come, for Love is of the valley,' come.
Por Love is of the valley, come thou down
185 And find him ; by the happy threshold, he,
Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize.
Or red with spirted purple of the vats.
Or foxlike in the vine ; ■■ nor cares to walk
With Death and Morning on the silver horns,
190 Nor wilt thou snare him in the white ravine.
Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice.
That huddling slant in furrow-cloven' falls
^ A most remarkable series of pictures and images of beauty.
as though receiving a shower of gold. ' more homely.
* Song of Solomon, II., 15. ' Glaciers are lined lengthways by folds.
104
THE PRINCESS
[Canto VII.
To roll the torrent out of dusky doors.
But follow ; let the torrent dance thee down
195 To find him in the valley ; let the wild
Lean-headed eagles yelp alone, and leave
The monstrous ledges there to slope and spill
Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke, '
That like a broken purpose waste in air.
200 So waste not thou, but come ; for all the vales
Await thee ; azure pillars of the hearth
Arise to thee ; the children call, and I,
Thy shepherd, pipe, and sweet is every sound,—
Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is sweet
205 Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn.
The moan of doves in immemorial elms.
And murmuring of innumerable bees." '
So she, low toned ; while with shut eyes I lay
Listening ; then lookM. Pale was the perfect face ;
310 The bosom with long sighs labor'd ; and meek
Seem'd the full lips, and mild the luminous eyes.
And the voice trembled, and the hand. She said
Brokenly that she knew it, she had fail'd
In sweet humility, had fail'd in all ;
215 That all her labor was but as a block
Left in the quarry ; ® but she still were loath.
She still were loath to yield herself to one *
That wholly scorn'd to help their equal rights
Against the sons of men and barbarous laws.
320 She pray'd me not to judge their cause from her
That wrong'd it, sought far less for truth than power
In knowledge ; ® something wild within her breast,
A greater than all knowledge, beat her down. '
And she had nurs'd me there from week to week.
335 Much had she learnt in little time. In part
' mist. ^ A very beautiful line.
^ It had not taken the form she wished to give it. ^ If the Prince were such.
® This touches a very vexed question. ® Has much of the idea of the poem.
Canto vil]
A MEDLEY
105
It was ill counsel had misled the girl
To vex true hearts ; yet was she but a girl—
" Ah, fool, and made myself a queen of farce !
When comes another such?- hie ver, I think,
330 Till the sun drop, dead, from the signs." '
Her voice
Choked, and her forehead sank upon her hands.
And her great heart thro' all the faultful past
Went sorrowing in a pause I dar'd not break ;
Till notice of a change in the dark world
335 Was lispt about the acacias, and a bird.
That early woke to feed her little ones.
Sent from a dewy breast a cry for light.
She moved, and at her feet the volume fell.
"Blame not thyself too much," I said, "nor blame
340 Too much the sons of men, and barbarous laws ;
These were the rough ways of the world till now.
Henceforth thou hast a helper, me, that know
The woman's cause is man's ; they rise or sink
Together, dwarf'd or godlike, bond or free.
345 For she that out of Lethe ' scales with man
The shining steps of Nature, shares with man
His nights, his days, moves with him to one goal.
Stays all the fair young planet in her hands,—
If she be small^ slight-natur'd, miserable,
350 How shall men grow? But work ' no more alone !
Our place is much ; as far as in us lies
We two will serve them both in aiding her,—
Will clear away the parasitic forms
That seem to keep her up but drag her down,
355 Will leave her space to burgeon out of all
Within her, let her make herself her own
^ of the zodiac.
® That past before our life which we have forgotten. ® Imperative.
106 THE PEIfTCESS [Canto VII.
To give or keep, to live and learn and be
All that not harms distinctive womanhood.
For woman is not undevelopt man,'
260 But diverse ; could we make her as the man.
Sweet Love were slain. His dearest bond is this.
Not like to like, but like in difference.
Yet in the long years liker must they grow ;
The man be more of woman, she of man ;
265 He gain in sweetness and in moral height.
Nor lose the wrestling thews that throw the world ;
She mental breadth, nor fail in childward care.
Nor lose the childlike in the larger mind.
Till at the last she set herself to man,
270 Like perfect music unto noble words.
And so these twain, upon the skirts of Time,
Sit side by side, full summ'd in all their powers.
Dispensing harvest, sowing the to-be.
Self reverent each and reverencing each,
275 Distinct in individualities.
But like each other ev'n as those who love.
Then comes the statelier Eden ' back to men ;
Then reign the world's great bridals, chaste and calm
Then springs the crowning race of humankind.
280 May these things be ! "
Sighing she spoke : " I fear
They will not."
"Dear, but let us type' them now
In our own lives, and this proud watchword rest
Of equal ; seeing either sex alone
Is half itself, and in true marriage lies
285 Nor equal, nor unequal ; each fulfills
^ It seems now to be the impression that she is, or that man is a developed woman,
developed, in fact, rather out of the typical order of ascent.
^ Paradise : but nobler than the first Paradise, being the last stage of that long de¬
velopment of which it was the first.
® As ugly an expression as some of Tennyson's are beautiful.
Cakto VII.]
A MEDLEY
107
Defect in each, and always, thought in thought.
Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow.
The single pure and perfect animal.
The two-cell'd heart beating, with one full stroke,
290 Life."
And again sighing she spoke : " A dream
That once was mine ! ' what woman taught you this ? "
"Alone," I said, "from earlier than I know,
Immers'd in rich foreshadowings of the world,
I loved the woman ; " he that doth not, lives
295 A drowning life, besotted in sweet self.
Or pines in sad experience worse than death.
Or keeps his wing'd affections dipt with crime.
Yet was there one ' thro' whom I loved her, one
Not learned, save in gracious household ways,
300 Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants.
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing Paradise,
Interpreter between the gods and men.
Who look'd all native to her place, and yet
305 On tiptoe seem'd to touch upon a sphere
Too gross to tread, and all male minds perforce
Sway'd to her from their orbits as they moved.
And girdled her with music. Happy he
With such a mother ! faith in womankind
310 Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him, and tho' he trip and fall
He shall not blind his soul with clay."
" But I,"
Said Ida, tremulously, " so all unlike—
It seems you love to cheat yourself with words ;
* Ida like many theorists was astonished to see that reality was as excellent as her
imagination.
The ideal womanhood. ^ his mother.
108 THE PRINCESS [CANTO VII.
315 This mother is your model. I have heard
Of your strange douhts ; they well might be ; I seem
A mockery to my own self. Never, Prince ;
You cannot love me."
" Nay, but thee," I said,
" From year-long poring on thy pictur'd eyes,
320 Ere seen I loved, and loved thee seen, and saw
Thee woman thro' the crust of iron moods '
That mask'd thee from men's reverence up, and forc'd
Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood. Now,
Giv'n back to life, to life indeed, thro' thee,
325 Indeed I love. The new day comes, the light
Dearer for night, as dearer thou for faults
Lived oyer. Lift thine eyes ; my doubts are dead.
My haunting sense of hollow shows ; the change.
This truthful change in thee has kill'd it. Dear,
330 Look up, and let thy nature strike on mine.
Like yonder morning on the blind half-world ; °
Approach and fear not ; breathe upon my brows ;
In that fine air I tremble, all the past
Melts mistlike into this bright hour, and this
335 Is morn to more, and all the rich to-come
Eeels, as the golden autumn woodland reels "
Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. Forgive me,
I waste my heart in signs ; let be. My bride.
My wife, my life ! 0 we will walk this world,
340 Yoked in all exercise of noble end.
And so thro' those dark gates across the wild
That no man knows. Indeed I love thee ; come.
Yield thyself up ; my hopes and thine are one.
Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself ;
345 Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me."
^ moods that shut away her real self.
2 that has been hitherto in darkness.
® It does not reel so much as wave.
Conclusion]
A MEDLEY
109
COlSrCLUSIOF.
So closed our tale, of which I give you all
The random scheme as wildly as it rose.'
The words are mostly mine ; for when we ceased
There came a minute's pause, and Walter said,
5 "I wish she had not yielded !"" then to me,
" What if you drest it up poetically ! "
So pray'd the men, the women. I gave assent.
Yet how to bind the scatter'd scheme of seven
Together in one sheaf ? What style could suit ?
10 The men requir'd that I should give throughout
The sort of mock-heroic gigantesque '
With which we banter'd little Lilia first ;
The women—and perhaps they felt their power.
For something in the ballads which they sang,
15 Or in their silent influence as they sat.
Had ever seem'd to wrestle with burlesque.
And drove us, last, to quite a solemn close—
They hated banter, wish'd for something real,
A gallant fight, a noble princess ; why
30 Hot make her true-heroic—true-sublime ?
Or all, they said, as earnest as the close ?
Which yet with such a framework scarce could be.
Then rose a little feud betwixt the two.
Betwixt the mockers and the realists ;
25 And I, betwixt them both, to please them both.
And yet to give the story as it rose,
I moved as in-a strange diagonal,^
And maybe neither pleas'd myself nor them.
* According to the original plan. Prologue 232.
^ Certainly a tame ending, but it would bê hard to think of a better unless tragic.
® There is none of that in the poem, though there are touches of the grotesque.
^ as a resultant of two forces.
110
THE PRHSrCESS
[Conclusion
But Lilia pleas'd me, for she took no part
30 In our dispute. The sequel of the tale
Had touch'd her ; and she sat, she pluck'd the grass.
She flung it from her, thinking ; last, she fixt
A showery glance upon her aunt, and said,
" You—tell us what we are ; " who might have told—
35 For she was cramm'd with theories out of hooks—
But that there rose a shout. The gates were closed
At sunset, and the crowd were swarming now.
To take their leave, about the garden rails.
So I and some went out to these. We climb'd
40 The slope to Vivian-place, and turning saw
The happy valleys, half in light and half
Far shadowing from the west, a land of peace.
Gray halls alone among their massive groves ;
Trim hamlets ; here and their a rustic tower
45 Half lost in belts of hop and breadths of wheat ;
The shimmering glimpses of a stream ; the seas ;
A red sail, or a white ; and far beyond,
Imagin'd more than seen, the skirts of France.
"Look there ! a garden !" said my college friend,
50 The Tory member's elder son, " and there ! '
God bless the narrow sea which keeps her off.
And keeps our Britain, whole within herself,
A nation yet, the rulers and the ruled—
Some sense of duty, something of a faith,
55 Some reverence for the laws ourselves have made.
Some patient force to change them when we will,
Some civic manhood firm against the crowd—
But yonder, whiff ! there comes a sudden heat,
^ These lines were inspired by the French Revolution of 1848. The good con¬
servative Poet could not bear the French way of doing things, and the matter so
pressed upon him at this time, that he put it into his poem, with which it has not
much to do.
Conclusion] A MEDLEY 111
The gravest citizen seems to lose his head,
60 The king is scared, the soldier will not fight.
The little boys begin to shoot and stab,
A kingdom topples over with a shriek.
Like an old woman, and down rolls the world
In mock heroics stranger than our own ;
65 Eevolts, republics, revolutions, most
Ho graver than a schoolboys' barring out ; '
Too comic for the solemn things they are.
Too solemn for the comic touches in them.
Like our wild Princess with as wise a dream
70 As some of theirs. God bless the narrow seas !
I wish they were a whole Atlantic broad."
" Have patience," I replied, " ourselves are full
Of social wrong ; and maybe wildest dreams
Are hut the needful preludes of the truth.
75 For me, the genial day, the happy crowd,
The sport half science, fill me with a faith.
This fine old world of ours is but a child
Yet in the go-cart. Patience ! Give it time
To learn its limbs ; there is a hand that guides."
80 In such discourse we gain'd the garden rails.
And there we saw Sir Walter where he stood.
Before a tower of crimson holly-oaks.
Among six boys, head under head, and look'd
Ho little lily-handed baronet he,
85 A great, broad-shoulder'd, genial Englishman,
A lord of fat prize-oxen and of sheep,
A raiser of huge melons and of pine,°
A patron of some thirty charities,
A pamphleteer on guano and on grain.
^ an old fashion of English schools in which the scholars barred the masters out of
the schoolroom. ^ pineapples.
112
THE PEINCESS
[Conclusion
90 A quarter-sessions chairman,—abler none ;
Fair-hair'd, and redder than a windy morn ;
Now shaking hands with him, now him, of those
That stood the nearest ; now address'd to speech ;
Who spoke few words and pithy, such as closed
95 Welcome, farewell, and welcome for the year
To follow. A shout rose again, and made
The long line of the approaching rookery swerve
From the elms, and shook the branches of the deer
From slope to slope thro' distant ferns, and rang
100 Beyond the bourn of sunset,—oh, a shout
More joyful than the city roar that hMls
Premier or king ! Why should not these great Sirs
Give up their parks some dozen times a year
To let the people breathe ? ' So thrice they cried,
105 I likewise, and in groups they stream'd away.
But we went back to the abbey, and sat on.
So much the gathering darkness charm'd. We sat
But spoke not, rapt in nameless reverie.
Perchance upon the future man. The walls
110 Blacken'd about us, bats wheel'd, and owls whoop'd,
And gradually the powers of the night.
That range above the region of the wind.
Deepening the courts of twilight, broke them up
Thro' all the silent spaces of the worlds,
115 Beyond all thought, into the heaven of heavens.
Last little Lilia, rising quietly,
Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir Kalph
From those rich silks, and home well pleas'd we went.
* Why will not people really do like the people of the poem?
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