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ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON. 
 
 
THE PRINCESS 
 
 BY 
 
 Alfred, Lord Tennyson 
 
 EDITED WITH 
 
 Introduction and Notes for the use of Academies and 
 High Schools 
 
 
 \ BV 
 
 H.^T. NIGHTINGALE 
 
 Instructor in English and History, South Division High School 
 Chicago. 
 
 ■1 <■ 
 
 -' 
 
 %^ 
 
 Chicago 
 
 AINSWORTH & COMPANY 
 
 [898 
 
 
A 2 N ^" 
 
 H^a*:^ 
 
 Copyright, 1S9S, 
 
 BY 
 
 AINSWORTH & COMPANY. 
 
2 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 "TENNYSON is the most faultless of modern poets in technical 
 execution, but one whose verse is more remarkable for artistic perfection 
 than for dramatic action and inspired fervor. His adroitness surpasses 
 his invention." — Stedman. 
 
 ALFRED TENNYSON, the son of an Anglican clergyman, 
 was born August 6, 1809, in the village of Somersb}^ in 
 Lincolnshire, England. He was educated at Trinity 
 College, Cambridge, and resided for many years at Aldworth, 
 in Sussex, with a summer residence on the Isle of Wight. 
 
 He began to write verse almost as soon as he could write 
 anything, and in his twelfth year wrote an epic of five thousand 
 lines in imitation of Scott. Shortl}^ after, his school-boy days 
 were concluded and his education continued under his father's 
 tuition. In 1828, he went up to Trinity College, Cambridge, 
 where his lack of public-school training became apparent in a 
 painful shyness. Before the year was gone, however, he had 
 found congenial friends although he never ceased to prefer soli- 
 tude to the society of strangers. His most important intimate 
 at college was Arthur Henry Hallam, who became his closest 
 friend and was afterward engaged to his sister Emily. 
 
 Tennyson's first recognition came in a prize poem called 
 Timbuctoo, issued in 1829, w^hich gained the Chancellor's 
 Medal at the Cambridge Commencement. In 1831, his father 
 
 5 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 died, and he left college without taking his degree. Two j-ears 
 after, in 1833, occurred the death of Hallam which brought the 
 deepest trouble into Tennyson's life, resulting in a spiritual 
 battle with grief and doubt which, nearly twenty years after- 
 ward, found its fit expression in the poem "In Memoriam." 
 In this Tennyson seeks to bring life and immortality to light. 
 
 In 1837 the home at Somersby was broken up, and there- 
 after, although from time to time he was with his mother, he 
 lived mostly in London lodgings. Here he had the companion- 
 ship of some of the strongest men of the time — Mill, Landor, 
 Thackeray and Carlyle — and the latter gives this description of 
 him: "A great shock of rough, dusty-dark hair; bright, 
 laughing, hazel eyes; massive, aquiline face, most massive, yet 
 most delicate ; of sallow, brown complexion, almost Indian- 
 looking; clothes, cynically loose, free and easy; smokes infinite 
 tobacco." 
 
 In 1842, poems by Alfred Tennyson were published in two 
 volumes ; the first being in great part a reprint of previously 
 published verse. 
 
 Nothing of note was issued in the next few years. Then 
 in 1845, came a grant from Sir Robert Peel, the Premier, of a 
 royal pension of two hundred pounds per year. 
 
 The Princess was issued in 1847. 
 
 In 1850, upon the death of Wordsworth, he was appointed 
 Laureate and thereafter was looked upon as the greatest of 
 living English poets. This year also notes the beginning of an 
 exceptionally happy married life. 
 
 In 1855, Oxford conferred on him the degree of D. C. L. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 7 
 
 In 1859 was issued his masterpiece, the " Idyls of the King," 
 to which he had given the labor of twenty years. This is a 
 rendering of the Arthurian legends into exquisitely musical 
 verse. In this epic Tennyson has caught the medieval spirit ; 
 no other poet has written so beautifully of the much-maligned 
 middle ages. In 1875, Tennyson appeared in a new role, that 
 of dramatic poet, but ' ' Queen Mary , ' ' was received with respect- 
 ful and general dissatisfaction, a fate that " Harold " shared in 
 1877. "Becket," with which a theatre was opened in New 
 York by the Irving Company, was only an accidental success, 
 and the ablest critics deem it a reading, not an acting play. 
 
 We quote below a striking paragraph from a recent portrait- 
 ure of his character : 
 
 " Tennyson is essentially a lyric poet, a graceful writer, a singer of 
 many sweet melodies ; but the beauty there is rather that of the cold mo- 
 saic than of ' the human face divine,' or if it is the beauty of the human 
 countenance, a peaceful or happy soul does not beam through it. In his 
 verse we seem ever to hear a sigh after something that is hopeless, ever 
 a wail for sad days gone by — often most beautifully uttered, yet only a 
 regretful wail with very little of a brightening glimmer of joy to look 
 forward to in life or after it. Sadness is an element of poetry, grief and 
 sorrow go home to the heart of every human being, but not the sadness 
 of despair, not the gloom of endless death. True human sorrow has in 
 it a gleam ©f hope, but ' Tennyson's Calvary has no Easter.' " 
 
 We suggest to those who read his poetry with an earnest 
 degree of analysis, who look into its depths, to decide for them- 
 selves, whether they thus read the late poet laureate. 
 
 In middle life Tennyson had refused a baronetcy, but in 
 1884, he 5'ielded to the general desire, and was created a Peer, 
 
8 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 with the title, " Baron Tennyson of Aldworth and Farringford," 
 so that thereafter he bore the title of I^ord Tennyson. Tenny- 
 son was a man of refined tastes, wide culture, profound thought 
 and studious habits ; the beauty and purity of his works are 
 but reflections of the character of the man. His last years were 
 passed in the serene quiet of Aldworth, and there, on October 
 6, 1892, shortly before the publication of his last volume, he 
 died as calnil)^ as he had liv^ed. The close of his life was in 
 keeping with the thoughts expressed in his last poem, entitled : 
 
 CROSSING THE BAR. 
 
 ***** 
 Twilight and evening bell, 
 
 And after that the dark ! 
 And may there be no sadness of farewell 
 When I embark ! 
 
 For though from out our bourne of Time and Place 
 
 The iiood may bear me far, 
 I hope to see m}' Pilot face to face 
 
 When I have crossed the bar. 
 
 THE POEM 
 
 DRIEFLY stated the story of the Poem is of a Prince, betrothed in 
 childhood, to a daughter of a neighboring king. The Princess, 
 having established a Woman's College on a superb foundation and 
 achieving a great success, has other views for her own life and declines 
 to fulfil the early betrothal. The Prince, with two companions in 
 woman's guise, seeks admission to the College where "No Man May 
 Enter In on Pain of Death." They were received and registered 
 as students. They are soon recognized however, through their disguise, 
 but the promise of secrecy is given by their discoverer. Others from one 
 cause and another become aware of the facts but the secret is not gener- 
 
INTRODUCTION. . 9 
 
 ally known until the Prince himself, angered at the indiscreet music of 
 one of his companions, betrays himself and trouble ensues. In the midst 
 of the general confusion the Princess seeks flight, but "blind with rage 
 she missed the plank and roll'd in the river." Good fortune and 
 manly courage come to the aid of the Prince, and "woman-vested " as he 
 was he plunged in, rescued the drowning Princess and gained the shore. 
 Notwithstanding he had saved her life and she owed him "bitter thanks " 
 he pleads in vain. Her orders were "push them out at gates" and out 
 they go and enter into the camp of the army sent by the father of the 
 Prince to besiege her palace. 
 
 Her brothers had raised an army also and come to the defense of the 
 Princess. 
 
 It was decided, after medieval custom, to settle the trouble by a 
 tourney between the brothers and fifty companions on the one side and 
 the Prince and a like number on the other side. In the tournament the 
 Prince suffers a disastrous defeat and a dangerous woilnd. The Princess 
 dismisses the students, admits the wounded of both sides and is herself in 
 turn finally conquered by her love for the Prince which results in their 
 marriage and the end of the tale. 
 
 pOR a proper appreciation of the Poem, it should be under- 
 stood that present conditions are utterly at variance with 
 the spirit prevalent at the time when The Princess was first 
 issued. Our consideration must be based upon the poem as it 
 is now, with all the additions and changes which criticism and 
 improvements have brought to it which render it more pleasing 
 to us than to its first readers. 
 
 Fifty years ago, when the Poem was first written, the 
 "Woman's Rights" agitation was scarcely begun, it was very 
 unpopular and the women who favored it were considered of an 
 objectionable masculine type. The doctrine of the higher 
 education of women became unfortunately intimately associated 
 with the same agitation and neither could be conceived as a fit 
 subject for an epic b}- a man whose earlier work warranted the 
 appearance of a great production of an heroic style. The 
 
lo INTRODUCTION. 
 
 establishment of Colleges for women, the general adoption of 
 co-education by our schools and universities and the general 
 advancement of women in all lines of human industry serve to 
 destroy the anachronism of the poem so far as the original 
 ideals of The Princess are concerned. 
 
 The central thought of the poem is the Divinity of love as 
 opposed to the untenable theories about Women's Sphere. It 
 portrays the conflict between the power of knowledge and the 
 power of love, and shows how inter-dependent and inter-helpful 
 they are in bringing about that full fruition of human happi- 
 ness, which the nature of both man and woman craves and is 
 intended to secure. 
 
 A first reading of the poem often results in dissatisfaction : 
 its verse is a combination of the epic, the idyllic and the lyric : 
 many passages are of perfect beauty so that in this respect it 
 has been called the most exquisite poem in the language ; and 
 3^et there is an unevenness of quality which obscures its unity 
 and which is caused, perhaps, by the over-elaborateness of 
 detail. The effort to luiite the burlesque and the serious results 
 frequently in a style almost fantastic. A late writer says .... 
 " Is a romance designed to indicate the poet's conception of 
 the true sphere of woman and her function in society." 
 
 Mr. Dawson says "The babe in the poem, as in the songs, 
 is made the central point upon which the plot turns ; for the 
 unconscious child is the concrete embodiment of Nature herself 
 clearing away all merely intellectual theories by her silent 
 influence." 
 
 Mr. Stedman says "other works of our poet are greater, 
 but none is so fascinating as this romantic tale: English 
 throughout, yet combining the England of Coeur de Ivion with 
 that of Victoria in one bewitching picture." 
 
 While The Princess may not be considered as one of the 
 
INTRODUCTION. ir 
 
 chief works of our literature it is a story that can be read with 
 interest, and studied with pleasure. 
 
 It is not an easy poem to read, and therefore should be 
 reserved for the last years of our secondary schools. A too 
 severe critical analysis should not be attempted, but every 
 effort put forth to reveal to the pupil the charms and beauties 
 of style, the landscape pictures, the eloquent lines, so that he 
 will become interested not so much in the subject matter of the 
 poem, as in its literary merit, for the end of the study of 
 English in our secondarj^ schools is the inculcation of a taste 
 for all that is purest, grandest, best in our richly-laden 
 literature. 
 
 DATE OF ISSUE OF FIRST EDITIONS. 
 
 1827. Poems by Two Brothers. 
 
 1829. Timbuctoo. Printed in " Prolusiones Academicae. " 
 
 1830. Poems, chiefly Lyrical. 
 1832. Poems by Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 1842. Poems by Alfred Tennyson, in two volumes. 
 
 1847. THE PRINCESS : A MEDLEY. 
 
 1850. In Memoriam. 
 
 1852. Ode on the Death of the Duke of Wellington. 
 
 1855. Maud, and other Poems. 
 
 1859. Idyls of the King. 
 
 1864. Enoch Arden, etc. 
 
 1865. A Selection from the Works of Alfred Tennyson. 
 1869. The Holy Grail, and other Poems. 
 
 1S70. The Window, or the Song of the Wrens. 
 
 1872. Gareth and Lynett, etc. 
 
 iSyS- Queen Mary : A Drama. 
 
 1876. Harold : A Drama. 
 
 1879. The Lover's Tale. 
 
 1884. The Cup and The Falcon. 
 Becket. 
 
 1885. Tiresias, and other Poems. 
 
 1886. Locksley Hall Sixty Years After, etc. 
 1889. Demeter, and other Poems. 
 
 1892. The Foresters : Robin Hood and Maid Marian. 
 
 The Death of ^none, Akbar's Dream, and other Poems. 
 
T^HE text used in this volume is the same as used in the fifth edition 
 published in 1853, and no references are made to any changes or 
 dates of additional passages. 
 
 The poem being intended for study as an example of literary style, it 
 has seemed best to omit unnecessary detail, and as few notes as possible 
 have been inserted. 
 
 ABBREVIATIONS AND REFERENCES. 
 
 Cf. (confer), compare. 
 
 CI. Diet., Author's Smith's "Classical Dictionary." 
 
 Dawson, Dawson's " Study of the Princess," (Montreal, 1884). 
 
 F. Q., Spenser's " Faerie Queene." 
 
 Fol., following. 
 
 Imp. Diet., Ogilvie's "Imperial Dictionary," (Century Co., 18S3). 
 
 In Mem., Tennyson's "In Memoriam." 
 
 P. ly., Milton's " Paradise lyost.'" 
 
 P. R., " " Paradise Regained." 
 
 Prol., Prologue. 
 
 Rd. Hd., Brewer's " Readers' Handbook." 
 
 Wb., Webster's Dictionarj', (revised, 1879). 
 
THE PRINCESS 
 
 CIR WALTER VIVIAN 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 
 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. 
 
 And me that morning Walter 
 show'd the house, 
 
 Greek, set with busts: from vases 
 in the hall 
 
 Flowers of all heavens, and love- 
 lier than their names, - 
 
 ' A " Mechanic's Institute, ' partly edu- 
 cational, partly social. 
 
 2 Botanical names, which are often 
 meaningless, except to botanists. 
 
 Grew side by side; and on the 
 pavement lay 
 
 Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin 
 in the park. 
 
 Huge Ammonites, 3 and the first 
 bones of Time; 
 
 And on the tables every clime and 
 age 
 
 Jumbled together; celts and calu- 
 mets. 
 
 Claymore and snow-shoe, toys in 
 lava, fans 
 
 Of sandal, amber, ancient rosa- 
 ries. 
 
 Laborious orient ivory sphere in 20 
 sphere. 
 
 The cursed Malayan crease,* and 
 battle-clubs 
 
 From the isles of palm: and 
 higher on the walls, 
 
 Betwixt the monstrous horns of 
 elk and deer. 
 
 His own forefathers' arms and 
 armor hung. 
 
 And 'this,' he said, 'was Hugh's 
 at Agincourt; 
 
 • lyarge fossils of cuttle-fish. 
 
 ♦ Also written creese or kris. 
 
14 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 And that was old Sir Ralph's at 
 
 Ascalon: 
 A good knight he! we keep a 
 
 chronicle 
 With all about him,' — which he 
 
 brought, and I 
 Dived 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 niixt 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. 
 
 'O miracle of women,' said the 
 
 book, 
 'O noble heart who, being strait- 
 besieged 
 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 thun- 
 derbolt. 
 She trampled some beneath her 
 
 horses' heels. 
 And some were whelm'd with 
 
 missiles of the wall. 
 And some were push'd with lances 
 
 from the rock. 
 And part were drown'd within the 
 
 whirling brook: 
 
 eCf. line 38, Tennyson often uses the 
 alternate form brake. 
 
 O miracle of noble womanhood!' 
 
 So sang the gallant glorious 
 chronicle; 
 
 And, I all rapt in this, 'Come out,' 5° 
 he said, 
 
 'To the Abbey: there is Aunt 
 Elizabeth 
 
 And sister Lilia with the rest.' 
 We went 
 
 (I kept the book and had my fin- 
 ger in it) 
 
 Down thro' the park: strange 
 was the sight to me; 
 
 For all the sloping pasture mur- 
 mur'd, sown 
 
 With happy faces and with holi- 
 day. 
 
 There moved the multitude, a 
 thousand heads: 
 
 The patient leaders of their Insti- 
 tute 
 
 Taught them with facts. One 
 rear'd a font of stone 
 
 And drew, from butts of water on 60 
 the slope, 
 
 The fountain of the moment, 
 playing, now 
 
 A twisted snake, and now a rain 
 of pearls, 
 
 Or steep-up*' spout whereon the 
 gilded ball 
 
 Danced like a wisp: and some- 
 what lower down 
 
 A man with knobs and wires and 
 v-ials 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 
 
 Dislink'd with shrieks and laugh- 70 
 ter: round the lake 
 
 • Ascending steeply. 
 
PROLOGUE, 
 
 15 
 
 A little clock-work steamer pad- 
 dling plied 
 And shook the lilies: perch'd 
 
 about the knolls 
 A dozen angry models jetted 
 
 steam: 
 A petty railway ran: a fire-bal- 
 loon 
 Rose gem-like up before the 
 
 dusky groves 
 And dropt a fairy parachute and 
 
 past: 
 And there thro' twenty posts of 
 
 telegraph 
 They flash'd a saucy message to 
 
 and fro 
 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 
 Arranged a country dance, and 
 
 flew thro' light 
 And shadow, while the twangling 
 
 violin 
 Struck up with Soldier-laddie, and 
 
 overhead 
 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 gazed, but satiated 
 at length 
 Came to the ruins. High-arch'd 
 
 and ivy-claspt. 
 Of finest Gothic lighter'^ than a 
 fire, 
 
 'The Gothic architecture in use in the 
 thirteenth and fourteenth centuries con- 
 
 Thro' one wide chasm of time and 
 
 frost they gave 
 The park, the crowd, the house; 
 
 but all within 
 The sward was trim as any garden 
 
 lawn: 
 And here we lit on Aunt Eliza- 
 beth, 
 And Lilia with the rest, and lady 
 
 friends 
 From neighbor® seats; and there 
 
 was Ralph himself, 
 A broken statue propt against 100 
 
 the wall, 
 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 robed the shoulders in a rosy 
 
 silk. 
 That made the old warrior from 
 
 his ivied nook 
 Glow like a sunbeam: near 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 no 
 
 crowd. 
 And all things great; but we, un- 
 
 worthier, told 
 Of college: he had climb'd across 
 
 the spikes, 
 And he'' had squeezed himself 
 
 betwixt the bars. 
 And he^ had breathed the Proc- 
 
 tor's^o dogs; and one 
 trasted with the massive architecture of 
 the mansion from which they had come. 
 
 8 Neighboring country residences. 
 
 » Means one another. 
 
 '"A college oflScer whose assistants 
 kept order. 
 
i6 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Discuss'd his tutor, rough to 
 common men, 
 
 But honeying at the whisper of a 
 lord; 
 
 And one the Master, as a rogue 
 in grain 
 
 Veneer'd with sanctimonious the- 
 ory. 
 
 But while they talk'd, above 
 
 their heads I saw 
 The feudal warrior lady-clad; 
 
 which brought 
 120 My book to mind: and opening 
 
 this I read 
 Of old Sir Ralph 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 praised her noble- 
 ness, and 'Where,' 
 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 conventional 
 
 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! 
 
 I wish 
 
 That I were some great princess, 
 
 1 would build 
 
 '1 Means conventionality; see Part Two, 
 line 72, also Imp. Diet. 
 
 Far of? from men a college like a 
 
 man's. 
 And I would teach them all that 
 
 men are taught; 
 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 
 
 If our old halls could change 140 
 their sex, and flaunt 
 
 With prudes for proctors, dow- 
 agers 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 Ralph 
 
 Who shines so in the corner; yet 
 I fear. 
 
 If there were many Lilias in the 
 brood. 
 
 However deep you might embow- 
 er the nest, 
 
 Some boy would spy it.' 
 
 At this upon the sward 
 
 She tapt her tiny silken-sandall'd 
 foot: 
 
 'That's your light way; but I 150 
 would make it death 
 
 For any male thing but to peep 
 at us.' 
 
 Petulant she spoke, and at her- 
 self she laugh'd; 
 
 A rosebud set with little wilful 
 thorns. 
 
 And sweet as English air could 
 make her, she: 
 
 But Walter hail'd a score of names 
 upon her, 
 
 And 'petty Ogress,' and 'ungrate- 
 ful Puss,' 
 
PROLOGUE. 
 
 17 
 
 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 
 i6o At wine, in clubs, of art, of poli- 
 tics; 
 
 They lost^- their weeks; they vext 
 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 Viv- 
 ian-place, 
 
 The little hearth-flower -Lilia. 
 Thus he spoke. 
 
 Part banter, part affection. 
 
 'True,' she said, 
 
 'We doubt not that. O 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 
 t7o Up thro' gilt wires a crafty loving 
 
 eye, 
 And takes a lady's finger 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. 
 'Come, listen! here is proof that 
 
 you were miss'd: 
 We seven stay'd at Christmas up^^ 
 
 to read; 
 
 '2 To gain batchelor's degree at Cam- 
 bridge, candidates were obliged to pass 
 nine terms in actual residence, and to be 
 present about two-thirds of the entire 
 number of weeks. 
 
 1 3 An expression used by university stu- 
 dents as we use "to study." 
 
 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. 
 So moulder'd in a sinecure as he: 180 
 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— 
 .Sick for the hollies and the yews 
 
 of home — 
 As many little trifling Lilias — 
 
 play'd 
 Charades and riddles as at Christ- 
 mas here, 
 And what's my thought and when 
 
 and where and how. 
 And often told a tale from mouth 
 
 to mouth 
 As here at Christmas.' 
 
 She remember'd that: ^^ 
 A pleasant game, she thought: 
 
 she liked it more 
 Than magic music, forfeits, all the 
 
 rest. 
 But these — what kind of tales did 
 
 men tell men. 
 She wonder'd, by themselves? 
 
 A half-disdain 
 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 forged a sevenfold story. 
 
 Kind? what kind? 
 Chimeras, crotchets, Christmas 
 
 solecisms, 
 
 '1 Avenues of trees. 
 
i8 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 200 Seven-headed monsters only made 
 to kill 
 
 Time by the fire in winter.' 
 
 "Kill him now, 
 
 The tyrant! kill him in the sum- 
 mer too,' 
 
 Said Lilia; 'Why not now?' the 
 maiden Aunt. 
 
 "Why not a summer's as a win- 
 ter's tale? 
 
 A tale for summer as befits the 
 time, 
 
 And something it should be to 
 suit 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 
 2,0 And Lilia woke with sudden- 
 shrilling mirth 
 
 An echo like a ghostly wood- 
 pecker. 
 
 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; 
 
 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 Prin- 
 cess, six feet high. 
 
 Grand, epic, homicidal ;i5 and be 
 you 
 
 The Prince to win her!' 
 
 I'See lines 127-137. 
 
 'Then follow me, the Prince,' 
 I answer'd, 'each be hero in his 220^ 
 
 turn! 
 Seven and yet one, like shadows 
 
 in a dream. — 
 Heroic seems our Princess as re- 
 quired — 
 But something made to suit with 
 
 time and place, ' 
 
 A Gothic ruin and a Grecian 
 
 house, 
 A talk of college and of ladies' 
 
 rights, 
 A feudal knight in silken mas- 
 querade, 
 And, yonder, shrieks and strange 
 
 experiments 
 For which the good Sir Ralph 
 
 had burnt them all — 
 This were a medley! we should 250 
 
 have him^^ back 
 Who told the "Winter's Tale" to 
 
 do it for us. 
 No matter: we will say whatever 
 
 comes. 
 And let the ladies sing us, if they 
 
 will, 
 From time to time, some ballad 
 
 or a song 
 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. 
 
 '•Refers to Shakespeare. 
 
■€:o-cp3vi?!..Jj;5=-» «"S=5^«i3=vvr*<Sr<3:^c 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ^T5;ih22:;''S=wC5!^ OC^<?5=£3^^ 
 
 A PRINCE I was, blue-eyed, 
 ■'»■ and fair in 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. 
 
 There lived an ancient legend 
 
 in our house. 
 Some sorcerer, whom a far-off 
 
 grandsire burnt 
 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 shad- 
 ows and to fall: 
 For 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: 
 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, 
 
 1 The thought of being deprived of 
 one's shadow was quite common in 
 medieval times. 
 
 And feel myself the shadow of a 
 dream. 
 
 Our great court-Galen- poised 
 his gilt-head cane. 
 
 And paw'd his beard, and mut- 20 
 ter'd 'catalepsy.' 
 
 My mother pitying made a thou- 
 sand prayers; 
 
 My mother was as mild as any 
 saint. 
 
 Half-canonized by all that look'd 
 on her. 
 
 So gracious was her tact and ten- 
 derness: 
 
 But my good father thought a 
 king a king; 
 
 He cared not for the affection of 
 the house; 
 
 He held his sceptre like a ped- 
 ant's wand 
 
 To lash ofTence, and with long 
 arms and hands 
 
 Reach'd out, and pick'd offenders 
 from the mass 
 
 For judgment. 
 Now it chanced that I had been, 30 
 
 While life was yet in bud and 
 blade, betroth'd 
 
 To one, a neighboring Princess: 
 she to me 
 
 Was proxy-wedded^ with a boot- 
 less calf 
 
 At eight years old; and still from 
 time to time 
 
 Came murmurs of her beauty 
 from the South, 
 
 2 An eminent physician, and for cen- 
 turies the chief medical authority. 
 9 A betrothal. 
 
20 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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 drew nigh 
 
 that I should wed, 
 My father sent ambassadors with 
 
 furs 
 And jewels, gifts, to fetch her: 
 
 these brought back 
 A present, a great labor of the 
 
 loom; 
 And therewithal an answer vague 
 
 as wind: 
 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; loved to live 
 
 alone 
 Among her women; certain, 
 
 would not wed. 
 
 50 That morning in the presence 
 
 room I stood 
 With Cyril and with Florian, 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. 
 And almost my half-self, for still 
 
 we moved 
 Together, twinn'd as horse's ear 
 
 and eye. 
 
 Now, while they spake, I saw 
 my father's face 
 
 Grow long and troubled like a 
 
 rising moon. 
 Inflamed with wrath: he started 
 
 on his feet, 
 Tore the king's letter, snow'd it 60 
 
 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 
 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. 
 Whom all men rate as kind and 70 
 
 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, 
 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: 
 
 " Increased his wrath; refers to the old 
 belief that the spleen was the source of 
 anger. 
 
PART I. 
 
 21 
 
 Thro' her this matter might be 
 
 sifted clean.' 
 So And Cyril whisper'd: '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; 
 I grate on rusty hinges here:' but 
 
 •No!' 
 Roar'd the rough king, 'you shall 
 
 not; we ourself 
 Will crush her pretty maiden fan- 
 cies dead 
 In iron gauntlets: break the coim- 
 
 cil 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 bathed 
 In the green gleam of dewy-tas- 
 
 sell'd trees: 
 What were those fancies? where- 
 fore break her troth? 
 Proud look'd the lips: but while 
 
 I meditated 
 A wind^ arose and rush'd upon 
 
 the South, 
 And shook the songs, the whis- 
 pers, and the shrieks 
 ^ Of the wild woods together; and 
 ► ' a Voice 
 
 Went with it, 'Follow, follow, 
 
 thou shalt win.' 
 
 5 Wallace compares Shelley Prom- 
 etheus Unbound II, i. 
 
 Then, ere the silver sickle^ of 100 
 
 that month 
 Became her golden shield, I stole 
 
 from court 
 With Cyril and with Florian, un- 
 
 perceived. 
 Cat-footed thro' the town and half 
 
 in dread 
 To hear my father's clamor at our 
 
 backs 
 With Ho! from some bay-window 
 
 shake the night; 
 But all was quiet: from the bas- 
 
 tion'd walls 
 Like threaded spiders, one by 
 
 one, we dropt, 
 And flying reach'd the frontier: 
 
 then we crost 
 To a livelier land; and so by tilth 
 
 and grange. 
 And vines, and blowing" bosks of no 
 
 wilderness. 
 We gain'd the mother-city^ thick 
 
 with towers. 
 And in the imperial palace found 
 
 the king. 
 
 His name was Gama; crack'd 
 and small his voice. 
 But bland the smile that like a 
 
 wrinkling wind 
 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, 
 6 Before the moon had become full. 
 ' Blooming thickets. 
 8 Capital City. 
 With no military decorations. 
 
777^ PRINCESS. 
 
 1-20 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. 
 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 hus- 
 bandry 
 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. 
 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 wo- 
 men sang; 
 
 And they that know such things — 
 
 I sought but peace; ' 
 
 No critic I— would call them mas- 
 terpieces: 
 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 
 For maidens, on the spur she fled; 150 
 
 and more 
 We know not, — only this: they 
 
 see no men. 
 Not even her brother Arac, nor 
 
 the twins 
 Her brethren, tho' they love her, 
 
 look upon her 
 As on a kind of paragon; and I 
 (Pardon me saying it) were much 
 
 loth 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 fet- 
 ters to her; 
 And yet, to speak the truth, I rate 
 
 your chance 
 Almost at naked nothing.' 
 
 Thus the king; 160 
 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 fire to find my 
 
 bride) 
 Went forth again with both my 
 
 friends. We rode 
 Many a long league back to the 
 
 North. At last 
 
PART I. 
 
 23 
 
 From hills, that look'd across a 
 land of hope, 
 
 We dropt with evening on a rus- 
 tic town 
 
 Set in a gleaming river's crescent- 
 curve, 
 170 Close at the boundary of the lib- 
 erties;!" 
 
 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. 
 
 He with a long low sibilation.^i 
 
 stared 
 As blank as death in marble; then 
 
 exclaim'd 
 Averring 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? 
 iSo The king would bear him out;' 
 
 and at the last — 
 The summerly of the vine in all 
 
 his veins — ■ 
 'No doubt that we might make it 
 
 worth his while. 
 She once had past that way; he 
 
 heard her speak; 
 She scared him; life! he never 
 
 saw the like; 
 She look'd as grand as doomsday 
 
 and as grave: 
 And he, he reverenced his liege- 
 lady there; 
 
 '"The college grounds to which stu- 
 dent.s were confined. 
 
 " A prolonged exclamation. 
 
 '2 The warmth of the wine which he 
 had been drinking. 
 
 He always made a point to post 
 with mares; 
 
 His daughter and his housemaid 
 were the boys: 
 
 The land, he understood, for miles 
 about 
 
 Was till'd by women; all the 190 
 swine were sows. 
 
 And all the dogs' — 
 
 But while he jested thus. 
 
 A thought flash'd thro' me which 
 I clothed in act. 
 
 Remembering how we three pre- 
 sented^s Maid, 
 
 Or Nymph, or Goddess, at high 
 tide of feast. 
 
 In masque or pageant at my fath- 
 er's court. 
 
 We sent mine host to purchase fe- 
 male gear; 
 
 He brought it, and himself, a 
 sight to shake 
 
 The midrifif of despair with laugh- 
 ter, holp 
 
 To lace us up, till each in maiden 
 plumes 
 
 We rustled: him we gave a costly 200 
 bribe 
 
 To guerdon!^ silence, mounted 
 our good steeds. 
 
 And boldly ventured on the liber- 
 ties. 
 
 We follow'd up the river as we 
 rode. 
 And rode till midnight, when the 
 
 college lights 
 Began to glitter firefly-like 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; 
 13 Assumed the place of. 
 '* To assure secrecy. 
 
24 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 And some inscription ran along 
 
 the front, 
 210 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 
 Of fountains spouted up and 
 
 showering down 
 In meshes of the jasmine and the 
 
 rose; 
 And all about us peal'd the night- 
 ingale. 
 Rapt in her song, and careless of 
 
 the snare. 
 
 There stood a bust of Pallas for 
 
 a sign, 
 220 By two sphere lamps blazon'd^^ 
 
 like Heaven and Earth 
 With constellation and with con- 
 tinent, 
 Above an entry: riding in, we 
 
 call'd: 
 A plump-arm'd ostleress and a 
 
 stable wench 
 Came running at the call, and 
 
 help'd us down. 
 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 
 
 '8 In the semblance of. 
 i« Were entered from, etc. 
 
 In laurel: her we ask'd of that 
 
 and this, 
 And who were tutors. 'Lady 
 
 Blanche,' she said, 
 'And Lady Psyche.' 'Which was 230 
 
 prettiest, 
 Best-natured?' 'Lady Psyche.' 
 
 'Hers are we,' 
 One voice, we cried; and I sat ' 
 
 down and wrote 
 In such a hand as when a field of 
 
 corn 
 Bowsi" all its ears before the 
 
 roaring East: 
 
 '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 Uranian^^ Ve- 
 nus hung, 
 And raised the blinding bandage 240 
 
 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 glazed with muftled 
 
 moonlight swell 
 On some dark shore just seen 
 
 that it was rich. 
 
 " I<ike a woman's writing. 
 
 ' 8 Plato asserted there were two Goddes- 
 ses called Aphrodite (Venus), one the 
 heavenly Venus, daughterof Uranus — one 
 the common Venus, daughter of Zeus and 
 Dione. 
 
PART I. 
 
 25 
 
 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, 
 O there above the little grave. 
 
 We kiss'd again with tears. 
 
^ €JO-e»J37CT?».Sj?cS^ «'''5?^«i=7=^rj«-C52!.^ 
 
 PART II. 
 
 i15;;2222:/%^-iC;i^«C4,<3'=£b£^^^ 
 
 A T break of day the College 
 ■'*• Portress came: 
 
 She brought us Academic silks, m 
 
 hue 
 The lilac, with a silken hood to 
 
 each. 
 And zoned with gold; and now 
 
 when these were on, 
 And we as rich as moths from 
 
 dusk cocoons, 
 She, curtseying her obeisance, let 
 
 us know 
 The Princess Ida waited. Out we 
 
 paced, 
 I first, and following thro' the 
 
 porch that sangi 
 .\I1 round with laurel, issued in 
 
 a court 
 o Compact of lucid marbles, boss'd- 
 
 with lengths 
 Of classic frieze, with ample awn- 
 ings 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; 
 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. 
 
 ' Probably refers to the rustling of the 
 leaves in the wind. 
 
 ' Bestudded. 
 
 There at a board by tome and 
 
 paper sat, 
 With two tame leopards couch'd 
 
 beside her throne, 
 All beauty compass'd in a female 20 
 
 form, 
 The Princess; liker to the inhabi- 
 tant 
 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 
 From over her arch'd brows, 
 
 with every turn 
 Lived thro' her to the tips of he; 
 
 long hands. 
 And to her feet. She rose her 
 
 height, and said: 
 
 'We give you welcome: not 
 
 without redound 
 Of use and glory to yourselves ye 
 
 come. 
 The first-fruits of the stranger: 30 
 
 aftertime. 
 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,' 
 She answer'd, 'then ye know the 
 
 Prince?' and he: 
 
PART II. 
 
 27 
 
 'The climax of his age! as tho' 
 
 there were 
 One rose in all the world, your 
 
 Highness that, 
 He worships your ideal.' She re- 
 plied: 
 '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 book- 
 less wilds would seem 
 As arguing love of knowledge 
 
 and of power; 
 Your language proves you still 
 
 the child. Indeed, 
 We dream not of him: when we 
 
 set our hand 
 To this great work, we purposed 
 
 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-styled 
 
 our lords ally 
 Your fortunes, justlier balanced, 
 
 scale with scale.' 
 
 At those high words, we, con- 
 scious of ourselves. 
 
 Perused^ the matting; then an 
 officer 
 
 Rose up, and read the statutes, 
 such as these: 
 
 Not for three years to correspond 
 with home; 
 
 Not for thr-ee years to cross the 
 liberties; 
 
 ' Scanned, surveyed, in the sense of 
 down cast eyes. 
 
 Not for three years to speak with 
 
 any men; 
 And many more, which hastily 60 
 
 subscribed, 
 We enter'd^ on the boards: and 
 
 'Now,' she cried, 
 'Ye are green wood, see ye warp 
 
 not. Look, our hall! 
 Our statues! — not of those that 
 
 men desire. 
 Sleek Odalisques, or oracles of 
 
 mode, 
 Nor stunted squaws of West or 
 
 East; but she 
 That taught the Sabine how to 
 
 rule, and she 
 The foundress^ of the Babylonian 
 
 wall, 
 The Carian Artemisia strong in 
 
 war. 
 The Rhodope that built the pyra- 
 mid, 
 Clelia," Cornelia, with the Palmy- 70 
 
 rene" 
 That fought Aurelian, and the Ro- 
 man brows 
 Of Agrippina. Dwell with these, 
 
 and lose 
 Convention, since to look on no- 
 ble forms 
 Makes* noble thro' the sensuous 
 
 organism 
 That which is higher. O lift your 
 
 natures up; 
 Embrace our aims; work out 
 
 your freedom. Girls, 
 Knowledge is now no more a 
 
 fountain seal'd! 
 
 ■• In the English Universities the regis- 
 ter of students names is officially known 
 as "the boards." 
 
 « Semiramis. 
 
 •A Roman Maiden, hostage to Por- 
 sena, who escaped and swam the Tiber. 
 
 'Zenobia, Queen of Palmyra, 
 
 8 Ennobles the mind. 
 
28 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Drink deep, until the habits of the 
 slave, 
 
 The sins of emptiness, gossip and 
 spite 
 
 And slander, die. Better not be 
 at all 
 o Than not be noble. Leave us; 
 you may go: 
 
 To-day the Lady Psyche will har- 
 angue 
 
 The fresh arrivals of the week be- 
 fore; 
 
 For they press in from all the 
 provinces, 
 
 And fill the hive.' 
 
 She spoke, and bow- 
 ing waved 
 
 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 
 o Erect behind a desk of satin- 
 wood, 
 
 A quick brunette, well-moulded, 
 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. 
 
 Her maiden babe, a double April 
 old, 
 
 Aglaia slept. We sat: the Lady 
 glanced: 
 
 Then Florian, but no livelier than 
 the dame 
 
 Thato whisper'd 'Asses' ears' 
 among the sedge, 
 
 9 See CI. Diet, under Midas. 
 
 'My sister.' 'Comely, too, by all 
 
 that's fair,' 
 Said Cyril. 'O hush, hush!' and loo 
 
 she began. 
 
 'This world was once a fluid 
 hazel" of light, 
 
 Till toward the centre set the 
 starry tides. 
 
 And eddied into suns, that wheel- 
 ing cast 
 
 The planets: then the monster, 
 then the man; 
 
 Tatoo'd or woaded, winter-clad in 
 skins, 
 
 Raw from the prime, and crush- 
 ing down his mate; 
 
 As yet we find in barbarous isles, 
 and here 
 
 Among the lowest.' 
 
 Thereupon she took 
 
 A bird's-eye view of all the un- 
 gracious past; 
 
 Glanced at the legendary Amazon no 
 
 As emblematic of a nobler age; 
 
 Appraised the Lycian^i custom, 
 spoke of those 
 
 That layi- at wine with Lar and 
 Lucumo; 
 
 Ran down the Persian, Grecian, 
 Roman lines 
 
 Of empire, and the woman's state 
 in each, 
 
 How far from just; till warming 
 with her theme 
 
 '1 Referring to the theory of the Nebu- 
 lar Hypothesis. 
 
 "The Ivycians took their names from 
 their mottiers and traced their ancestry 
 in the female line. 
 
 ''The Etruscan women were admitted 
 to banquets on equal terms with the men. 
 l,arorI,ars an Etruscan title equivalent 
 to King — I<ucamoan Etrurian title equiv- 
 alent to the Roman Patricius. 
 
PART II. 
 
 29 
 
 She fulmined^^ out her scorn of 
 
 laws SaHquei-i 
 And little-footed China, touch'd 
 
 on Mahomet 
 With much contempt, and came 
 
 to chivalry; 
 120 When some respect, however 
 
 slight, was paid 
 To woman, superstition all awry: 
 However, then commenced the 
 
 dawn: a beam 
 Had slanted forward, falling in a 
 
 land 
 Of promise; fruit would follow. 
 
 Deep, indeed, 
 Their debt of thanks to her who 
 
 first had dared 
 To leap the rotten pales of preju- 
 dice, 
 Disyoke their necks from cus- 
 tom, and assert 
 None lordlier than themselves 
 
 but that which made 
 Woman and man. She had found- 
 ed; 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; 
 For often fineness compensated 
 
 size: 
 Besides the brain was like the 
 
 hand, and grew 
 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; 
 
 '3 Thundered. Cf. Spenser's F. Q. 
 III., 2. 5. 
 
 '*The Salic law excluded women from 
 the throne and from inheriting certain 
 lands. 
 
 But woman ripen'd earlier, and 
 
 her life 
 Was longer; and albeit their glo- 
 rious names 
 Were fewer, scatter'd stars, yet 140 
 
 since in truth 
 The highest is the measure of the 
 
 man. 
 And not the Kafifir, Hottentot, 
 
 Malay, 
 Nor those horn-handed breakers 
 
 of the glebe. 
 But Homer, Plato, Veriilam;i^ 
 
 even so 
 With woman: and in arts of gov- 
 ernment 
 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. 
 And bow'd her state to them, that 150 
 
 they might grow 
 To use and power on this Oasis, 
 
 lapt 
 In the arms of leisure, sacred 
 
 from the blight 
 Of ancient influence and scorn. 
 At last 
 She rose upon a wind of prophecy 
 Dilating on the future: 'every- 
 where 
 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 
 Of science and the secrets of the 160 
 
 mind; 
 Musician, painter, sculptor, critic, 
 
 more; 
 
 '5 Francis Bacon. 
 
30 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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.' 
 
 She ended here, and beckon'd 
 
 us: 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 
 ,0 Faltering and fluttering in her 
 
 throat, she cried, 
 'My brother!' 'Well, my sister.' 
 
 'O,' she said. 
 'What do you here? and in this 
 
 dress? and these? 
 Why, who are these? a wolf with- 
 in the fold! 
 A pack of wolves! the Lord be 
 
 gracious to me! 
 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 ENTER IN ON 
 
 PAIN OF DEATH?' 
 'And if I had,' he answer'd, 'who 
 
 could think 
 5o The softer^'' Adams of your Acad- 
 eme, 
 O sister. Sirens tho' they be, were 
 
 such 
 As chanted on the blanching 
 
 bones of men?' 
 'But you will find it otherwise,' 
 
 she said. 
 
 '6 Dawson considers this as "female 
 founders." 
 
 'You jest: ill jesting with edge- 
 tools! my vow 
 Binds me to speak, and O that 
 
 iron will. 
 That axelike edge unturnable, our 
 
 Head. 
 The Princess!' 'Well then. 
 
 Psyche, take my life. 
 And nail me like a weaseP" on a 
 
 grange 
 For warning; bury me beside the 
 
 gate, 
 And cut this epitaph above my 190 
 
 bones: 
 Here lies a brother by a sister 
 
 slain, 
 All for the common good of wom- 
 ankind.' 
 "Let me die too,' said Cyril, 'hav- 
 ing seen 
 And heard the Lady Psyche.' 
 
 I struck in: 
 'Albeit so mask'd. Madam, I love 
 
 the truth; 
 Receive it: and in me behold the 
 
 Prince 
 Your countryman, affianced years 
 
 ago 
 To the Lady Ida: here, for here 
 
 she was. 
 And thus (what other way was 
 
 left?) I came.' 
 'O Sir, O Prince, I have no coun- 200 
 
 try. none; 
 If any, this; but none. Whate'er 
 
 I was 
 Disrooted, what I am is grafted 
 
 here. 
 Affianced, Sir? love-whispers may 
 
 not breathe 
 Within this vestal limit, and how 
 
 should I, 
 Who am not mine, say, live: the 
 
 thunderbolt 
 
 "Weasels and mice were sometimes 
 hung on a granary as a warning to thieves. 
 Cf. Milton, Comus 175. 
 
PART II. 
 
 31 
 
 Hangs silent; but prepare: I 
 speak; it falls.' 
 
 *Yet pause,' I said: 'for that in- 
 scription there, 
 
 I think no more of deadly lurks 
 therein, 
 
 Than in a clapper clapping in a 
 garth,i8 
 210 To scare the fowl from fruit: if 
 more there be, 
 
 If more and acted on, what fol- 
 lows? 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 
 
 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) 
 As he bestrode my grandsire, 
 
 when he fell. 
 And all else fled? we point to it, 
 
 and we say. 
 The loyal warmth of Florian is 
 
 not cold. 
 But branches current yet in kin- 
 dred veins.' 
 
 '8 A garden. 
 
 'Are you that Psyche,' Florian 
 
 added; 'she 
 With whom I sang about the 
 
 morning hills. 
 Flung ball, flew kite, and raced 230 
 
 the purple fly, 
 And snared 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 
 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, 
 Woman, if I might sit beside 240 
 
 your feet, 
 And glean your scatter'd sapi- 
 ence.' 
 
 Then once more, 
 'Are you that Lady Psyche,' I 
 
 began, 
 'That on her bridal, m.orn before 
 
 she past 
 From all her old companions, 
 
 when the king 
 Kiss'd her pale cheek, declared 
 
 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.' 
 'Are you that Psyche,' Florian 250 
 
 ask'd, 'to whom, 
 
THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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 
 
 Was sprinkled on your kirtle, and 
 you wept. 
 
 That was fawn's blood, not broth- 
 er's, yet you wept. 
 
 O by the bright head of my lit- 
 tle niece, 
 
 You were that Psyche, and what 
 are you now?' 
 
 'You are that Psyche,' Cyril said 
 again, 
 io "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 emo- 
 tion, be 
 
 The Lucius^^ Junius Brutus of my 
 kind? 
 
 Him you call great: he for the 
 common weal. 
 
 The fading politics of mortal 
 Rome, 
 
 As I might slay this child, if good 
 need were. 
 
 Slew both his sons: and I, shall I, 
 on whom 
 
 The secular emancipation turns 
 70 Of half this world, be swerved 
 from right to save 
 A prince, a brother? a little will I 
 
 yield. 
 Best so, perchance, for us, and 
 
 well for you; 
 O hard, when love and duty clash! 
 I fear 
 
 '5 The father who condemned hi.s sons 
 to death. 
 
 My conscience will not count me 
 
 fleckless; yet — 
 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 not learn; 
 They fled, who might have shamed 
 
 us: promise, all.' 
 
 What could we else, we prom- 2S0 
 ised each; and she. 
 
 Like some wild creature newly- 
 caged, commenced 
 
 A to-and-fro, so pacing till she 
 paused 
 
 By Florian; holding out her lily 
 arms 
 
 Took both his hands, and smil- 
 ing faintly said: 
 
 'I knew you at the first; tho' you 
 have grown 
 
 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. 
 
 Our mother, is she well?' 
 
 With that she kiss'd 290 
 
 His forehead, then, a moment 
 after, clung 
 
 About him, and betwixt them 
 blossom'd up 
 
 From out a common vein of mem- 
 ory 
 
 Sweet household talk, and phrases 
 of the hearth, 
 
 And far allusion, till the gracious 
 dews 
 
 Began to glisten and to fall: and 
 while 
 
PART II. 
 
 33 
 
 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 daf- 
 fodilly 
 
 (Her mother's color), with her 
 lips apart. 
 
 And all her thoughts as fair with- 
 in her eyes, 
 
 As bottom agates seen to wave 
 and float 
 
 In crystal currents of clear morn- 
 ing seas. 
 
 So stood that same fair creature 
 
 at the door. 
 Then Lady Psyche, 'Ah — Melissa 
 
 — you! 
 310 You heard us?' and Melissa, 'O 
 
 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 with- 
 in my breast. 
 To give three gallant gentlemen 
 
 to death.' 
 T trust you,' said the other, 'for 
 
 we two 
 Were always friends, none closer, 
 
 elm and vine: 
 But yet your mother's jealous 
 
 temperament — 
 Let not your prudence, dearest, 
 
 drowse, or prove 
 
 The Danaid-"^ of a leaky vase, for 
 
 fear 
 This whole foundation ruin, and 320 
 
 I lose 
 My honor, these their lives.' 'Ah, 
 
 fear me not,' 
 Replied Melissa; 'no — I would 
 
 not tell. 
 No, not for all Aspasia's clever- 
 ness, 
 No, not to answer. Madam, all 
 
 those hard things 
 That Sheba came to ask of Solo- 
 mon.' 
 '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 
 Feasted the woman wisest then, in 330 
 
 halls 
 Of Lebanonian cedar; nor should 
 
 you 
 (Tho', Madam, you should ans- 
 wer, we would ask) 
 Less welcome find among us, if 
 
 you came 
 Among us, debtors for our lives 
 
 to you. 
 Myself for something more.' He 
 
 said not what, 
 But 'Thanks,' she ariswer'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 
 Your promise: all, I trust, may 340 
 
 yet be well.' 
 
 «o Rd. Hb. See Danaus. 
 
34 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 We turn'd to go, but Cyril took 
 the child, 
 
 And held her round the knees 
 against his waist. 
 
 And blew the swollen cheek of a 
 trumpeter, 
 
 While Psyche watch'd them, smil- 
 ing, and the child 
 
 Push'd her flat hand against his 
 face and laugh'd; 
 
 And thus our conference closed. 
 
 And then we strolled 
 
 For half the day thro' stately 
 theatres 
 
 Bench'd crescent-wise. In each 
 we sat, we heard 
 
 The grave Professor. On the lec- 
 ture slate 
 550 The circle rounded under female 
 hands 
 
 With flawless demonstration: fol- 
 low'd then 
 
 A classic lecture, rich in senti- 
 ment. 
 
 With scraps of thunderous epic 
 lilted out 
 
 By violet-hooded Doctors, elegies 
 
 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, 
 ;6o 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, 
 
 And glutted all night long breast- 
 deep in corn. 
 
 We issued gorged with knowl- 
 edge, 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?' 
 
 'Ungracious!' answer'd Florian; 370 
 "have you learnt 
 
 No more from Psyche's lecture, 
 you that talk'd 
 
 The trash that made me sick, and 
 almost said?' 
 
 'O trash.' he said, 'but with a ker- 
 nel in it! 
 
 Should I not call her wise who 
 made me wise? 
 
 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 
 
 Fly twanging headless arrows at 380 
 the hearts, 
 
 Whence follows many a vacant 
 pang; but O 
 
 With me. Sir, enter'd in the big- 
 ger boy. 
 
 The head of all the golden-shafted 
 firm. 
 
 The long-limb'd lad that had a 
 Psyche too; 
 
 He cleft-i me thro' the stomacher; 
 and now 
 
 What think you of it, Florian? do 
 I chase 
 
 The substance or the shadow? will 
 it hold? 
 
 2' Cf. Part 4, line 264. 
 
PART II. 
 
 35 
 
 I have no sorcerer's malison on 
 me. 
 
 No ghostly hauntings like his 
 Highness. I 
 390 Flatter myself that always every- 
 where 
 
 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? 
 
 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! 
 O to hear 
 400 The Doctors! O to watch the 
 thirsty plants 
 
 Imbibing! once or twice I thought 
 to roar, 
 
 To break my chain, to shake my 
 mane: but thou, 
 
 Modulate me, soul of mincing 
 mimicry! 
 
 Make liquid treble of that bas- 
 soon, my throat; 
 
 Abase those eyes that ever loved 
 to meet 
 
 Star-sisters answering under cres- 
 cent brows; 
 
 Abate the stride which speaks of 
 man, and loose 
 
 A flying charm of blushes o'er 
 this cheek. 
 
 Where they like swallows com- 
 ing out of time 
 410 Will wonder why they came: but 
 hark the bell 
 
 For dinner, let us go I' 
 
 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 
 
 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 
 
 Pierced thro' with eyes, but that I 
 kept mine own 
 
 Intent on her, who rapt in glori- 
 ous dreams, 
 
 The second-sight of some As- 420 
 traean-- 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 in- 
 most terms 
 
 Of art and science: Lady Blanche 
 alone 
 
 Of faded form and haughtiest line- 
 aments, 
 
 With all her autumn tresses false- 
 ly brown, 
 
 Shot sidelong daggers at us, a 
 tiger-cat 
 
 In act to spring. 
 
 At last a solemn grace 
 
 Concluded, and we sought the 
 gardens: there 
 
 One walk'd reciting by herself, 430 
 and one 
 
 In this hand held a volume as to 
 read. 
 
 And smoothed a petted peacock 
 down with that: 
 
 " Cl. Diet. See Milton, Hymn on Nativ- 
 ity, 133- 
 
THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Some to a low song oar'd a shal- 
 lop by. 
 Or under arches of the marble 
 
 bridge 
 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 
 1° Was passing: what was learning 
 
 unto tliem? 
 They wish'd to marry; they could 
 
 rule a house; 
 Men hated learned women: but 
 
 we three 
 Sat muffled like the Fates; and 
 
 often came 
 
 Melissa hitting all we saw with 
 
 shafts 
 Of gentle satire, kin to charity, 
 That harm'd not: then day 
 
 droopt; the chapel bells 
 Call'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. 
 While the great organ almost 
 
 burst his pipes, 
 Groaning for power, and rolling 
 
 thro' the court 
 A long melodious thunder to the 
 
 sound 
 Of solemn psalms, and silver lit- 
 anies, 
 The work of Ida, to call down 
 
 from Heaven 
 A blessing on her labors for the 
 
 world. 
 
 Sweet and low, sweet and low, 
 
 Wind of the western sea. 
 Low, low, breathe and blov/, 
 
 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. 
 
••f:jO-<.;2ffCT?».f;j;33^ ''!'=5?>3«45=5vrj«>"<S^<= 
 
 PART 111. 
 
 »T5;:H32!lM3=w:iC5i^ tssJs.^J'aCtiStPTtf 
 
 MORN in the white wake of the 
 morning star 
 
 Came furrowing all the orient in- 
 to gold. 
 
 We rose, and each by other drest 
 with care 
 
 Descended to the court, that lay- 
 three parts 
 
 In shadow, but the Muses' heads 
 were touch'd 
 
 Above the darkness from their na- 
 tive East. 
 
 There while we stood beside 
 
 the fount, and watch'd 
 Or seem'd to watch the dancing 
 
 bubble, approach'd 
 Melissa, tinged with wan from 
 
 lack of sleep, 
 M Or grief, and glowing round her 
 
 dewy eyes 
 The circled Iris of a night of 
 
 tears; 
 'And fly,' she cried, 'O fly, while 
 
 yet you may! 
 My mother knows:' and when I 
 
 ask'd her 'how,' 
 'My fault,' she wept, 'my fault! 
 
 and yet not mine; 
 Yet mine in part. O hear me, 
 
 pardon me! 
 My mother, 't is her wont 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; 
 
 And so it was agreed when first 20 
 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 can- 
 vass you: 
 
 Her countrywomen! she did not 
 envy her. 
 
 "Who ever saw such wild bar- 
 barians.'' 
 
 Girls? — more like men!" and at 
 these words the snake, 
 
 My secret, seem'd to stir within 
 my breast; 
 
 And O, Sirs, could I help it. but 
 my cheek 
 
 Began to burn and burn, and her 30 
 lynx eye 
 
 To fix and make me hotter, till 
 she laugh'd: 
 
 '"O marvellously modest maiden, 
 you! 
 
 Men! girls, like men! why, if 
 they had been men 
 
 You need not set your thoughts 
 in rubric! thus 
 
 For wholesale comment." Par- 
 don, I am shamed 
 
 That I must needs repeat for my 
 excuse 
 
 What looks so little graceful: 
 "men" (for still 
 
 ' Refers to Melissa's blushes ; the ni- 
 rics in a prayer book are printed in red. 
 
THE PRINCESS. 
 
 My mother went revolving on the 
 
 word) 
 "And so they are, — very like men 
 
 indeed — 
 And with that woman closeted 
 
 for hours!" 
 Then came these dreadful words 
 
 out one by one, 
 "Why — these — are — men:" I shud- 
 
 der'd: "and you know it." 
 "O ask me nothing," I said: "And 
 
 she knows too, 
 And she conceals it." So my 
 
 mother clutch'd 
 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 saved, and 
 
 therefore fly: 
 But heal me with your pardon 
 
 ere you go.' 
 
 '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, 'let some classic An- 
 gel speak 
 
 In scorn of us, "They mounted, 
 Ganymedes, 
 
 To tumble, Vulcans,- on the sec- 
 ond morn." 
 
 But I will melt this marble into 
 wax 
 
 To yield us farther furlough:' and 
 he went. 
 
 Melissa shook her doubtful 
 
 curls, and thought 
 t p. ly., Bk. I., 740 fol. 
 
 He scarce would prosper. 'Tell 60 
 
 us,' Florian ask'd, 
 'How grew this feud betwixt the 
 
 right and left.' 
 'O long ago,' she said, 'betwixt 
 
 these two 
 Division smoulders hidden; 'tis 
 
 my mother, 
 Too jealous, often fretful as the 
 
 wind 
 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, 
 And from the Queen's decease she 7° 
 
 brought her up. 
 But when your sister came she 
 
 won the heart 
 Of Ida: they were still together, 
 
 grew 
 (For so they said themselves) in- 
 osculated; 
 Consonant chords that shiver to 
 
 one note; 
 One mind in all things: yet my 
 
 mother still 
 Affirms your Psyche thieved her 
 
 theories. 
 And angled with them for her 
 
 pupil's love: 
 She calls her plagiarist; I know 
 
 not what: 
 But I must go; I dare not tarry,' 
 
 and light. 
 As flies the shadow of a bird, she 80 
 
 fled. 
 
 Then murmur'd Florian, gazing 
 after her: 
 'An open-hearted maiden, true 
 and pure. 
 
PART III. 
 
 39 
 
 If I could love, why this were she: 
 how pretty 
 
 Her blushing was, and how she 
 blush'd again. 
 
 As if to close with Cyril's ran- 
 dom wish! 
 
 Not like your Princess cramm'd 
 with erring pride. 
 
 Nor like poor Psyche whom she 
 drags in tow.' 
 
 'The crane,' I said, 'may chat- 
 ter of the crane, 
 The dove may murmur of the 
 
 dove, but I 
 90 An eagle clang an eagle to the 
 
 sphere.^ 
 My princess, O 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, 
 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 — when- 
 e'er she moves 
 The Samian Here^ rises, and she 
 
 speaks 
 100 A Alemnon smitten with the 
 
 morning sun.' 
 
 So saying from the court we 
 paced, and gain'd 
 The terrace ranged along the 
 northern front, 
 
 « To the upper air. Cf. Milton, Comus, 
 Song to Echo. 
 
 «Juno, who had a great affection for 
 the island of Samos. Cf. .^Eneid ; I, 16 ; 
 also Rd. Hb. for Memnon. 
 
 And leaning there on those balus- 
 ters, high 
 
 Above the empurpled champaign, 
 drank the gale 
 
 That blown about the foliage un- 
 derneath, 
 
 And sated with the innumerable'" 
 rose. 
 
 Beat balm upon our eyelids. 
 Hither came 
 
 Cyril, and yawning 'O hard task.' 
 he cried: 
 
 'No fighting shadows here! I 
 forced a way 
 
 Thro' solid opposition crabb'd no 
 and gnarl'd. 
 
 Better to clear prime*^ forests, 
 heave and thump 
 
 A league of street in summer sol- 
 stice down. 
 
 Than hammer at this reverend 
 gentlewoman. 
 
 I knock'd and, bidden, enter'd; 
 found her there 
 
 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. 
 
 And why we came? I fabled 120 
 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. 
 
 'Cf.part five, line thirteen. 
 6 Primeval. 
 'About to leave. 
 
40 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 I urged the fierce inscription on 
 
 the gate. 
 And our three Hves. True — we 
 
 had limed'* ourselves 
 With open eyes, and we must take 
 
 the chance. 
 But such extremes, I told her, 
 
 well might harm 
 The woman's cause. "Not more 
 
 than now," she said, 
 ;o "So puddled as it is with favor- 
 itism." 
 I tried the mother's heart. Shame 
 
 might befall 
 IMelissa, knowing, saying not she 
 
 knew: 
 Her answer was, "Leave me to 
 
 deal with that." 
 I spoke of war to come and many 
 
 deaths. 
 And she replied, her duty was to 
 
 speak, 
 And duty duty, clear of conse- 
 quences. 
 I grew discouraged, Sir; but since 
 
 I knew 
 No rock so hard but that a little 
 
 wave 
 May beat admission in a thousand 
 
 years, 
 (0 I recommenced: "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 
 His rightful bride, and here I 
 
 promise you 
 Some palace in our land, where 
 
 you shall reign 
 
 8 often used by Shakespeare and Mil- 
 ton ; refers to use of bird line to snare 
 birds. 
 
 The head and heart of all our fair 
 
 she'-'-world. 
 And * your great name flow on 
 
 with broadening time 
 For ever." Well, she balanced 
 
 this a little, 
 And told me she would answer 15a 
 
 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. 
 Would we go with her? we should 
 
 find the land 
 Worth seeing; and the river made 
 
 a fall 
 Out yonder:' then she pointer 1 
 
 on to where 
 A double hill ran up his furrowy 
 
 forks 
 Beyond the thick-leaved platans 
 
 of the vale. 
 
 Agreed to, this, the day fled 160 
 on thro' all 
 
 Its range of duties to the appoint- 
 ed 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 
 
 Of those tame leopards. Kitten- 
 like he roll'd 
 
 And paw'd about her sandal. I 
 drew near; 
 
 I gazed. On a sudden my strange 
 seizure came 
 
 Upon me, the weird vision of our 
 house: 
 9Cf. Prol., line 158. 
 
PART III. 
 
 41 
 
 The Princess Ida seem'd a hollow 
 show, 
 70 Her gay-furr'd cats a painted fan- 
 tasy, 
 
 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 
 
 ]\Iy heart beat thick with passion 
 and with awe; 
 
 Then from my breast the involun- 
 tary 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^*^ fol- 
 lowing up 
 180 The river as it narrow'd to the 
 hills. 
 
 I rode beside her and to me she 
 
 said: 
 'O friend, we trust that you es- 
 
 teem'd us not 
 Too harsh to your companion yes- 
 
 termorn; 
 Unwillingly we spake.' 'No — not 
 
 to her,' 
 I answer'd, 'but to one of whom 
 
 we spake 
 Your Highness might have seem'd 
 
 the thing you say. 
 'Again?' she cried, "are you am- 
 bassadresses 
 From him to me? we give you, 
 
 being strange, 
 A license: speak, and let the topic 
 
 die.' 
 
 90 
 
 I stammer'd that I knew him — 
 could have wish'd — 
 
 '"Formerly accented on second sylla- 
 ble ; P. R. II. 419. 
 
 'Our king expects — was there no 
 precontract? 
 
 There is no truer-hearted — ah, you 
 seem 
 
 All he prefigured, and he could 
 not see 
 
 The bird of passage flying south 
 but long'd 
 
 To follow: surely, if your High- 
 ness keep 
 
 Your purport, you will shock 
 him even to death. 
 
 Or baser courses, children of de- 
 spair.' 
 
 'Poor boy,' she said, 'can he not 
 
 read — no books? 
 Quoit, tennis, ball — no games? 
 
 nor deals in that 
 Which men delight in, martial 200 
 
 exercise? 
 To nurse a blind ideal like a girl, 
 Methinks he seems no better than 
 
 a girl; 
 As girls were once, as we our- 
 
 self have been: 
 We had our dreams; perhaps he 
 
 mixt with them: 
 We touch on our dead self, nor 
 
 shun to do it, 
 Being other — since we learnt our 
 
 meaning here. 
 To lift the woman's fallen di- 
 vinity 
 Upon an even pedestal with man.' 
 
 She paused, and added with a 
 
 haughtier smile, 
 'And as to precontracts, we move. 210 
 
 my friend. 
 At no man's beck, but know our- 
 
 self and thee, 
 O Vashti, noble Vashtil^^ Sum- 
 
 mon'd out 
 She kept her state, and left the 
 
 drunken king 
 " Esther, I, 12. 
 
42 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 To brawl at Shushan underneath 
 the palms.' 
 
 'Alas, your Highness breathes 
 
 fulli- East,' I said, 
 'On that which leans to you! I 
 
 know the Prince, 
 I prize his truth: and then how 
 
 vast a work 
 To assail this gray pre-eminence 
 
 of man ! 
 You grant me license; might I 
 
 use it? think; 
 20 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 up- 
 on sand 
 Which old-recurring waves of 
 
 prejudice 
 Resmooth to nothing: might I 
 
 dread that you, 
 With only Fame 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, 
 30 '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 
 Like field-flowers everywhere! we 
 
 like them well: 
 
 '2 Dawson refers it to the Chilling East 
 Wind. 
 
 But children die; and let me tell 
 
 you, girl, 
 Howe'er you babble, great deeds 
 
 cannot die; 
 They with the sun and moon re- 
 new their light 
 For ever, blessing those that look 
 
 on them. 
 Children — that men may pluck 2^0 ^ 
 
 them from our hearts. 
 Kill us with pity, break us with 
 
 ourselves — 
 O — children — there is nothing up- 
 on earth 
 More miserable than she that has 
 
 a son 
 And sees him err: nor would we 
 
 work for fame ; 
 Tho' she perhaps might reap the 
 
 applause of Great, 
 Who learns the one POU STO^s 
 
 whence after-hands 
 May move the world, tho' she 
 
 herself efifect 
 But little: wherefore up and act, 
 
 nor shrink 
 For fear our solid aim be dis- 
 sipated 
 By frail successors. Would, in- 250 
 
 deed, 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.' 
 
 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: 
 13 A place to stand on. 
 
PART III. 
 
 43 
 
 'No doubt we seem a kind of 
 monster to you; 
 260 We are used to that: for women, 
 up till this, 
 
 Cramp'd under worse than South- 
 sea-isle taboo, 1* 
 
 Dwarfs of the gynaeceum,!-^ fail so 
 far 
 
 In high desire, they know not, 
 cannot guess 
 
 How much their welfare is a pas- 
 sion to us. 
 
 If we could give them surer, 
 quicker proof — 
 
 O if our end were less achievable 
 
 By slow approaches than by sin- 
 gle 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' lib- 
 erties.' 
 
 She bow'd as if to veil a noble 
 
 tear; 
 And up we came to where the 
 
 river sloped 
 To plunge in cataract, shattering 
 
 on black blocks 
 A breath of thunder. O'er it 
 
 shook the woods. 
 And danced the color, and, below, 
 
 stuck out 
 The bones of some vast bulk that 
 
 lived and roar'd 
 Before man was. She gazed a- 
 
 while and said, 
 'As these rude bones to us, are 
 
 we to her 
 280 That will be.' 'Dare we^^ dream 
 
 of that/ I ask'd, 
 
 "Wb. 
 
 '5 Women's quarters in a Greek house. 
 
 '6 Can we imagine that God, like a mere 
 
 workman, could improve with practice? 
 
 Which wrought us, as the work- 
 man 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 
 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 
 One anatomic' 'Nay, we thought 290 
 
 of that,' 
 She answer'd, 'but it pleased 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. 
 Or in the dark dissolving human 
 
 heart. 
 And holy secrets of this micro- 
 cosm, 
 Dabbling a shameless hand with 
 
 shameful jest, 
 Encarnalize their spirits: yet we 
 
 know 
 Knowledge is knowledge, and this 
 
 matter hangs: 
 Howbeit ourself, foreseeing casu- 300 
 
 alty. 
 Nor willing men should come 
 
 among us, learnt. 
 For many weary moons before 
 
 we came, 
 
 i'Rd. Hb. 
 
 isSocrate.''. 
 
 '9 Refers to vivisection. Dawson. 
 
44 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 This craft of healing. Were you 
 
 sick, ourself 
 Would tend upon you. To your 
 
 question now. 
 Which touches on the workman 
 
 and his work. 
 Let there be light and there was 
 
 light: 't is 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 mould 
 The woman to the fuller day.' 
 
 She spake 
 With kindled eyes: we rode a 
 
 league beyond. 
 And, o'er a bridge of pinewood 
 
 crossing, came 
 On flowery levels underneath the 
 
 crag. 
 Full of all beauty. 'O how sweet,' 
 
 I said 
 320 (For I was half-oblivious of my 
 
 mask), 
 'To linger here with one that 
 
 loved us I' 'Yea,' 
 She answer'd, 'or with fair phil- 
 osophies 
 That lift the fancy; for indeed 
 
 these fields 
 Are lovely, lovelier not the Ely- 
 
 sian-'' lawns. 
 Where paced the Demigods of 
 
 old, and saw 
 
 20 Probably the Islands of the Blest. 
 
 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 raised 
 
 A tent of satin, elaborately 330 , 
 wrought 
 
 With fair Corinna's-^ triumph; 
 here she stood. 
 
 Engirt with many a florid maid- 
 en-cheek, 
 
 The woman-conqueror; woman- 
 conquer'd there 
 
 The bearded Victor of ten-thou- 
 sand hymns. 
 
 And all the men mourn'd at his 
 side: but we 
 
 Set forth to climb; then, climb- 
 ing. Cyril kept 
 
 With Psyche, with Melissa Flo- 
 rian, I 
 
 With mine af^anced. Many a lit- 
 tle hand 
 
 Glanced like a touch of sunshine 
 on the rocks. 
 
 Many a light foot shone like a 34 
 jewel set 
 
 In the dark crag: and then we 
 turn'd, we wound 
 
 About the clifYs, the copses, out 
 and in, 
 
 Hammering23 and clinking, chat 
 tering stony names 
 
 Of shale and hornblende, rag and 
 trap and tufif. 
 
 Amygdaloid and trachyte, till the 
 sun 
 
 Grew broader toward his death 
 and fell, and all 
 
 The rosy heights came out above 
 
 the lawns. , 
 
 = 'A Grecian Poetess, who won several 
 
 prizes over Pindar "the bearded Victor." 
 
 CI. Diet. 
 
 23 Gathering specimens of minerals. 
 
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, bugle, blow, set the wild 
 
 echoes flying, 
 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, 
 dying, dying, dying. 
 
 O hark, O hear! how thin and 
 clear. 
 And thinner, clearer, farther 
 going! 
 O sweet and far from cliff and 
 scar 
 The horns of Elfland faint- 
 ly blowing! 
 Blow, let us hear the purple glens 
 
 replying: 
 Blow, bugle; answer, echoes, 
 dying, dying, dying. 
 
 O love, they die in yon rich 
 sky, 
 They faint on hill or field or 
 river; 
 Our echoes roll from soul to 
 soul. 
 And grow for ever and for 
 ever. 
 Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild 
 
 echoes flying. 
 And answer, echoes, answer dy- 
 ing, dying, dying. 
 
 
€I=>-e»pSf!7!?».Sj;35^ t^Si^-'i^'J^Kn^r-CS^': 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 ,l>;iS22!2:,3spi.»iC5sJ«ci3=,'«''=Q=*^^ 
 
 T 
 
 HERE sinks the nebulousi 
 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, 
 By every coppice-feather'd 
 
 chasm and cleft, 
 Dropt thro' the ambrosial gloom 
 
 to where below 
 No bigger than a glow-worm 
 
 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 en- 
 ter'd in. 
 
 There leaning deep in broider'd 
 down we sank 
 
 Our elbows; on a tripod in the 
 midst 
 
 A fragrant flame rose, and be- 
 fore us glow'd 
 
 Fruit, blossom, viand, amber 
 
 wine, and gold.- 
 
 1 Cf. Part II ; lines 101-104. 
 
 » Probably referring to the golden gob- 
 lets and table service. 
 
 Then she, 'Let SDme one sing 
 
 to us; lightlier move 
 The minutes fledged with music:' 
 
 and a maid, 
 Of those beside her, smote her 20 
 
 harp and sang. 
 
 Tears, 3 idle tears, I know not what 
 
 they mean. 
 Tears from the depth of some divine 
 
 despair 
 Rise in the heart, and gather to the 
 
 eyes, 
 In looking on the happy autumn-fields, 
 And thinking of the days that are no 
 
 more. 
 
 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 3° 
 
 more. 
 
 Ah, sad and strange as in dark sum- 
 mer dawns 
 
 The earliest pipe of half-awaken'd 
 birds 
 
 To dying ears, when unto dying eyes 
 
 The casement slowly grows a glimmer- 
 ing square ; 
 
 So sad, so strange, the days that are no 
 more. 
 
 Dear as remember'd kisses after 
 
 death, 
 And sweet as tho.se by hopeless fancy 
 
 feign'd 
 On lips that are for others ; deep as love. 
 Deep as first love, and wild with all 
 
 regret ; 
 O Death in Life, the days that are no '*" 
 
 more. 
 
 She ended with such passion 
 that the tear 
 
 a Tears, idle tears, etc. See Dawson. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 47 
 
 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 
 About the moulder'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 by- 
 gones 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 
 Becomes a cloud: for all things 
 
 serve their time 
 Toward that great year of equal 
 
 mights and rights. 
 Nor would I fight with iron laws, 
 
 in the end 
 Found golden: let the past be 
 
 past: let be 
 Their cancell'd Babels: tho' the 
 
 rough kex^ break 
 The starr'd mosaic, and the 
 60 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 
 
 • Wandering. 
 
 5 Wild vegetation growing in the 
 mosaic pavement. 
 
 Of better, and Hope, a poising 
 
 eagle, burns 
 Above the unrisen morrow:' then 
 
 to me, 
 'Know you no song of your own 
 
 land,' she said, 
 'Not 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?' 
 
 Then I remember'd one myself 70 
 had made. 
 
 What time I watch'd the swallow 
 winging south 
 
 From mine own land, part made 
 long since, and part 
 
 Now while I sang, and maiden- 
 like as far 
 
 As I could ape their treble did I 
 sing. 
 
 O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flj'ing 
 
 south, 
 Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded 
 
 eaves. 
 And tell her, tell her, what I tell to 
 
 thee. 
 
 O tell her, Swallow, thou that know- 
 
 est each. 
 That bright and fierce and fickle is the 
 
 South, 
 And dark and true and tender is the ro 
 
 North. 
 
 O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, 
 
 and light 
 Upon her lattice, I would pipe and 
 
 trill, 
 And cheep and twitter twenty million 
 
 loves. 
 
 O were I thou that she might take me 
 
 in, 
 And lay me on her bosom, and her 
 
 heart 
 Would rock the snowy cradle till I died. 
 
 6 According to Herodotus, at the Egypt- 
 ian banquets it was the custom to carry 
 around to each person an image of a dead 
 bodj- with an injunction to enjoy the 
 feast, as, when dead, he would be lik€the 
 image. 
 
48 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Why lingereth she to clothe her heart 
 with love, 
 Delaying as the tender ash delays 
 To clothe herself, when all the woods 
 are green ? 
 
 O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is 
 flown ; 
 Sav to her, I do but wanton in the 
 
 ' South, 
 But in the North long since my nest is 
 made. 
 
 O tell her, brief is life but love is long. 
 And brief the sun of summer in the 
 
 North, 
 And brief the moon of beauty in the" 
 
 South. 
 
 O 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 ceased, and all the ladies, each 
 
 at each, 
 Like the Ithacensian^ suitors in 
 
 old time, 
 Stared with great eyes, and 
 
 laugh'd with alien lips. 
 And knew not what they meant; 
 
 for still my voice 
 Rang false: but smiling, 'Not for 
 
 thee,' she said, 
 'O Btilbul*, any rose of Gulistan 
 Shall burst her veil; marsh-div- 
 ers, rather, maid. 
 Shall croak thee sister, or the 
 
 meadow-crake 
 Grate her harsh kindred in the 
 
 grass: and this 
 A mere love-poem! O for such, 
 
 my friend. 
 We hold them slight; they mind^ 
 
 us of the time 
 
 7 Referring to the return of Ulysses, to 
 Ithaca, when his wife's suitors laugh in 
 an unnatural way : the Greek expres- 
 sion is ' laughed with other men's jaws.' 
 
 8 A Persian word which means in Eng- 
 lish, the nightingale. 
 
 3 Remind. 
 
 When we made bricks in Egypt, no 
 Knaves are men. 
 
 That lute and flute fantastic ten- 
 derness. 
 
 And dress the victim to the offer- 
 ing up, 
 
 And paint the gates of Hell with 
 Paradise, 
 
 And play the slave to gain the 
 tyranny. 
 
 Poor soul! I had a maid of honor 
 once; 
 
 She wept her true eyes blind for 
 such a one, 
 
 A rogue of canzonets and sere- 
 nades. 
 
 I loved her. Peace be with her. 
 She is dead. 
 
 So they blaspheme the muse! But 
 great is song 
 
 Used to great ends: ourself have jjg 
 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. 
 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. 
 Not vassals to be beat, nor pretty 
 
 babes 
 To be dandled, no, but living 
 
 wills, and sphered 
 Whole in ourselves and owed to 13c 
 
 none. Enough! 
 But now to leaven play with prof- 
 it, you, 
 
 "=Sung by the Valkyrs, of the Norse 
 Mythology, who carried slain heroes to 
 Valhalla. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 49 
 
 Know you no song, the true 
 
 growth of your soil, 
 That gives the manners of your 
 
 countrywomen?' 
 
 She spoke and turn'd her sump- 
 tuous head with eyes 
 
 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^^ tav- 
 ern-catch 
 :4o Of Moll and Meg, and strange ex- 
 periences 
 
 Unmeet for ladies. Florian nod- 
 ded 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; 
 
 And heated thro' and thro' with 
 wrath and love, 
 
 I smote him on the breast; he 
 started up; 
 
 There rose a shriek as of a city 
 sack'd; 
 
 Melissa clamor'd, 'Flee the 
 death;' 'To horse!' 
 
 Said Ida; 'home! to horse!' and 
 fled, as flies 
 150 A troop of snowy doves athwart 
 ^ the dusk. 
 
 When some one batters at the 
 dovecote doors. 
 
 Disorderly the women. Alone I 
 stood 
 
 With Florian, cursing Cyril, vext 
 at heart, 
 
 " The repetition gives emphasis. 
 
 In the pavilion: there like parting 
 
 hopes 
 I heard them passing from me: 
 
 hoof by hoof. 
 And every hoof a knell to my de- 
 sires, 
 Clang'd on the bridge; and then 
 
 another shriek. 
 'The Head, the Head, the Prin- 
 cess, O the Head!' 
 For blind with rage she miss'd 
 
 the plank, and roll'd 
 In the river. Out I sprang from j^ 
 
 glow to gloom: 
 There whirl'd her white robe like 
 
 a blossom'd branch 
 Rapt to the horrible fall: a glance 
 
 I gave. 
 No more; but woman-vested as 
 
 I was 
 Plunged; and the flood drew; yet 
 
 I caught her; then 
 Oaring one arm, and bearing in 
 
 my left 
 The weight of all the hopesi- of 
 
 half the world. 
 Strove to bufifet to land in vain. 
 
 A tree 
 W^as half-disrooted from his place 
 
 and stoop'd 
 To drench his dark locks in the 
 
 gurgling wave 
 Mid-channel. Right on this we 
 
 drove and caught, 
 And grasping down the boughs I 
 
 gain'd the shore. 
 
 There stood her maidens glim- 
 meringly group'd 
 
 In the hollow bank. One reach- 
 ing forward drew 
 
 My burthen from mine arms; they 
 cried, 'She lives:' 
 
 They bore her back into the tent: 
 but I, 
 
 '2 Note the combined irony and com- 
 passionate kindness. 
 
50 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 So much a kind of shame within 
 
 me wrought, 
 Not yet endured to meet her open- 
 ing eyes, 
 Nor found my friends; but push'd 
 
 alone on foot 
 (For since her horse was lost I 
 
 left her mine) 
 iSo 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 
 Of open-work in which the hun- 
 
 ter^^ rued 
 His rash intrusion, manlike, but 
 
 his brows 
 Had sprouted, and the branches 
 
 thereupon 
 Spread out at top, and grimly 
 
 spiked the gates. 
 
 A little space was left between 
 
 the horns, 
 jgo 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 
 
 changed from hue to hue. 
 Now poring on the glowworm, 
 
 now the star, 
 I paced the terrace, till the Bear 
 
 had wheel'd 
 Thro' a great arc his seven slow 
 
 suns. 
 
 A step 
 Of lightest echo, then a loftier 
 
 form 
 Than female, moving thro' the 
 
 uncertain gloom, 
 
 '3See Cl. Diet, .\ctseon. 
 
 Disturb'd me with the doubt 'if 
 
 this were she,' , 
 
 But it was Florian. 'Hist, O 
 
 hist!' he said, 
 'They seek us; out so late is out 200 
 
 of rules. 
 Moreover, "Seize the strangers'" 
 
 is the cry. 
 How came you here?' I told 
 
 him: 'I,' said he, 
 'Last of the train, a moraP* leper, 
 
 I, 
 To whom none spake, half-sick at 
 
 heart, return'd. 
 Arriving all confused among the 
 
 rest 
 With hooded brows I crept into 
 
 the hall. 
 And, couch'd behind a Judith, i"' 
 
 underneath 
 The head of Holofernes peep'd 
 
 and saw. 
 Girl after girl was call'd to trial: 
 
 each 
 Disclaim'd all knowledge of us: aic 
 
 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 moth- 
 er knew. 
 Or Psyche, she affirm'd not, or 
 
 denied: 
 From whence the Royal mind, 
 
 familiar with her. 
 Easily gather'd either guilt. She 
 
 sent 
 
 '* Florian, himself blameless, and anx- 
 ious for Pysche and Melissa has a tragic 
 sense of the situation. 
 
 15 Rd. Hb., also the Apocryphal book of 
 Judith. 
 
 '6 To be men. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 51 
 
 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 
 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 pur- 
 pled, 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. 
 
 He has a solid base of tempera- 
 ment; 
 
 But as the water-lily starts and 
 slides 
 
 Upon the level in little pufYs of 
 wind. 
 
 Tho' anchor'd to the bottom, 
 such is he.' 
 
 Scarce had I ceased when fiom 
 a tamarisk near 
 
 Two Proctors leapt upon us. cry- 240 
 
 ing. 'Names:' 
 He, standing still, was clutch'd; 
 
 but I began 
 To thrid^" the musky-circled maz- 
 es, wind 
 And double in and out the boles, 
 
 and race 
 By all the fountains: fleet I was 
 
 of foot: 
 Before me shower'd the rose in 
 
 flakes; behind 
 I heard the pufT'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. 
 That claspt the feet of a Alne- 250 
 
 mosyne. 
 And falling on my face was 
 
 caught and known. 
 
 They haled us to the Princess 
 
 where she sat 
 High m the hall: above her 
 
 droop'd a lamp. 
 And made the single jewel on her 
 
 brow 
 Burn like the mystic^s fire on a 
 
 mast-head, 
 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 .plough. 
 
 stronger than men, 
 Huge women blowzed with 260 
 
 health, and wind, and rain, 
 
 ''Cf. Dream of Fair Women, 51; and 
 In Mem., 97. 
 
 '8Cf. Longfellow Golden Legend, Part 
 V, at Sea. 
 
52 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 And labor. Each was like a 
 
 Druid rock; 
 Or like a spire of land that stands 
 
 apart 
 Cleft from the main, and vvail'd 
 
 about with mews. 
 
 Then, as we came, the crowd di- 
 viding clove 
 
 An advent to the throne: and 
 therebeside. 
 
 Half-naked as if caught at once 
 from bed 
 
 xA.nd tumbled on the purple foot- 
 cloth, lay 
 
 The lily-shining child; and on the 
 left, 
 
 Bow'd on her palms and folded 
 up from wrong, 
 70 Her round white shoulder shaken 
 with her sobs, 
 
 Melissa knelt; but Lady Blanche 
 erect 
 
 Stood up and spake, an affluent 
 orator. 
 
 Tt was not thus, O Princess, in 
 old days: 
 
 You prized my counsel, lived up- 
 on my lips: 
 
 I led you then to all the Castalies; 
 
 I fed you with the milk of every 
 Muse; 
 
 I loved 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 grieved — to slacken 
 and to cool; 
 
 Till taken with her seeming open- 
 ness 
 
 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 an- 
 cient love. 
 
 And partly that I hoped 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, 
 
 When time should serve; and 29 
 thus a noble scheme 
 
 Grew up from seed we two long 
 since had sown; 
 
 In us true growth, in her a Jo- 
 nah's gourd, 
 
 Up in one night and due to sud- 
 den sun : 
 
 We took this palace; but even 
 from the first 
 
 You stood in your own light and 
 darken'd mine. 
 
 What student came but that you 
 planed her path 
 
 To Lady Psyche, younger, not so 
 wise, 
 
 A foreigner, and I your country- 
 woman, 
 
 I your old friend and tried, she 
 new in all? 
 
 But still her lists were swell'd and 300 
 mine were lean; 
 
 Yet I bore up in hope she would 
 be known: 
 
 Then came these wolves: they 
 knew her: they endured, 
 
 Long-closeted with her the yes- 
 termorn. 
 
 To tell her what they were, and 
 she to hear: 
 
 And me none told: not less to an 
 eye like mine, 
 
PART IV. 
 
 53 
 
 A Hdless watcher of the pubhc 
 
 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 From Lady Psyche:" you had 
 
 gone to her, 
 She told, perforce; and winning 
 
 easy grace, 
 No doubt, for slight delay, re- 
 
 main'd among us 
 In our young nursery still un- 
 known, the stem 
 Less grain than touchwood, while 
 
 my honest heat 
 Were all miscounted as malignant 
 
 haste 
 To push my rival out of place and 
 
 power. 
 But public use required she should 
 
 be known; 
 And since my oath was ta'en for 
 
 public use, 
 I broke the letter of it to keep the 
 
 sense. 
 320 I spoke not then at first, but 
 
 watch'd them well. 
 Saw that they kept apart, no mis- 
 chief done; 
 And yet this day (tho' you should 
 
 hate me for it) 
 I came to tell you; found that you 
 
 had gone, 
 Ridden to the hills, she likewise: 
 
 now, I thought, 
 * That surely she will speak; if not, 
 
 then I: 
 Did she? These monsters blaz- 
 
 on'd what they were, 
 According to the coarseness of 
 
 their kind. 
 For thus I hear; and known at 
 
 last (my work) 
 
 And full of cowardice and guilty 
 
 shame — 
 I grant in her some sense of 33c 
 
 shame — she flies; 
 And I remain on whom to wreak 
 
 your rage, 
 L that have lent my life to build 
 
 up yours, 
 L that have wasted here health, 
 
 wealth, and time. 
 And talent, I — you know it — I will 
 
 not boast: 
 Dismiss me, and I prophesy your 
 
 plan, 
 Divorced from my experience, 
 
 will be chafif 
 For every gust of chance, and 
 
 men will say 
 We did not know the real light, 
 
 but chased 
 The wisp that flickers where no 
 
 foot can tread.' 
 
 She ceased: the Princess an- 34c 
 
 swer'd coldly, 'Good: 
 Your oath is broken: we dismiss 
 
 you: go. 
 For this lost lamb' (she pointed 
 
 to the child), 
 'Our mind is changed; we take it 
 
 to ourself.' 
 
 Thereat the Lady stretch'd a 
 
 vulture throat. 
 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 
 
 her face, and cast 
 A liquid look on Ida, full of 35( 
 
 prayer. 
 
54 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Which mehed Florian's fancy as 
 
 she hung, 
 A Niobeani'' daughter, one arm 
 
 out, 
 Appeahng to the bolts of Heaven; 
 
 and while 
 We gazed upon her came a Httle 
 
 stir 
 About the doors, and on a sudden 
 
 rush'd 
 Among us, out of breath, as one 
 
 pursued, 
 A woman-post in flying raiment. 
 
 Fear 
 Stared in her eyes, and chalk'd 
 
 her face, and wing'd 
 Her transit to the throne, where- 
 by she fell 
 X) Delivering seal'd dispatcheswhich 
 
 the Head 
 Took half-amazed, and in her 
 
 lion's mood 
 Tore open, silent we with blind 
 
 surmise 
 Regarding, while she read, till 
 
 over brow 
 And cheek and bosom brake the 
 
 wrathful bloom 
 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 seem'd. while 
 
 now her breast. 
 Beaten with some great passion 
 
 at her heart, 
 70 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; 
 '9C1. Diet. 
 
 The plaintive cry jarr'd on her 
 ire; she crush'd 
 
 The scrolls together, made a sud- 
 den turn 
 
 As if to speak, but, utterance fail- 
 ing 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 
 
 We knew not your ungracious 380 
 laws, which learnt. 
 
 We, conscious of what temper you 
 are built, 
 
 Came all in haste to hinder wrong, 
 but fell 
 
 Into his father's hand, who has 
 this night. 
 
 You lying close upon his terri- 
 tory, 
 
 Slipt round and in the dark in- 
 vested 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 unscathed: give 
 
 him your hand: 
 Cleave to your contract: tho' in- 390 
 
 deed we hear 
 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, amd which 
 
 might well deserve 
 That we this night should pluck 
 
 your palace down; 
 
PART IV. 
 
 55 
 
 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 im- 
 petuously: 
 
 'O not to pry and peer on your 
 
 reserve, 
 ;4oo 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, 
 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, lived 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-swan in among 
 
 the stars 
 Would clang it, and lapt in 
 
 wreaths of glowworm light 
 The mellow breaker murmur'd 
 * Ida. Now, 
 
 «»An agreement between kings was 
 considered peculiarly sacred because of 
 the old theory of the divine right to rule. 
 
 Because I would have reach'd 
 
 j'ou, had you been 
 Sphered up with Cassiopeia,2i or 
 
 the enthroned 
 Persephone in Hades, now at 
 
 length, 
 Those winters of abeyance all 420 
 
 worn out; 
 A man I came to see you: but, 
 
 indeed. 
 Not in this frequence can I lend 
 
 full tongue, 
 
 noble Ida, to those thoughts 
 
 that wait 
 
 On you, their centre: let me say 
 but this. 
 
 That many a famous man and 
 woman, town 
 
 And landskip22 have I heard of, 
 after seen 
 
 The dwarfs of presage: tho' when 
 known, there grew 
 
 Another kind of beauty in detail 
 
 ]\Iade them worth knowing; but 
 in you I found 
 
 My boyish dream involved and 430 
 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, 
 
 1 cannot cease to follow you, as 
 
 they say 
 
 The seal does music; who desire 
 you more 
 
 Than growing boys their man- 
 hood; dying lips, 
 
 With many thousand matters left 
 to do, 
 
 2' Placed in the starry firmament 
 
 or down in Hades. See CI. Diet, under 
 Cassiopeia and Persephone. 
 
 »« Wb. 
 
56 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 The breath of life: O 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 howe'er you 
 
 block and bar 
 Your heart with system out from 
 
 mine, I hold 
 That it becomes no man to nurse 
 
 despair. 
 But in the teeth of clench'd an- 
 tagonisms 
 To follow up the worthiest till he 
 
 die: 
 Yet that I came not all unauthor- 
 ized 
 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 
 Invective seem'd to wait behind 
 
 her lips. 
 As waits a river level with the 
 
 dam 
 Ready to burst and flood the 
 
 world with foam: 
 And so she would have spoken, 
 
 but there rose 
 A hubbub in the court of half the 
 
 maids 
 Gather'd together: from the il- 
 lumined-^^ 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 
 
 23 It is late in the night and the greater 
 number of the girls are in the quadrangle 
 which is lighted from the hall windows. 
 
 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. 
 And some they cared 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. 
 
 Not peace she look'd, the Head: 
 
 but rising up 
 Robed in the long night of her 470 
 
 deep hair, so 
 To the open window moved, re- 
 maining there 
 Fixt like a beacon-tower above 
 
 the waves 
 Of tempest, when the crimson- 
 
 rolling--t eye 
 Glares ruin, and the wild birds on 
 
 the light 
 Dash themselves dead. She 
 
 stretch'd her arms and call'd 
 Across the tumult, and the tumult 
 
 fell. 
 
 'What fear ye, brawlers? am not 
 
 I your Head? 
 On me, me, me, the storm first 
 
 breaks: I dare 
 All these male thunderbolts: what 
 
 is it ye fear? 
 Peace! there are those^^ to 480 
 
 avenge us and they come: 
 
 2* Many lighthouses having revolving 
 red lights. 
 
 25 The brothers of the Princess. 
 
PART IV. 
 
 57 
 
 If not, — myself were like enough, 
 
 O girls, 
 To unfurl the maiden banner of 
 
 our rights, 
 And clad in iron burst the ranks 
 
 of war. 
 Or, falling, protomartyr of our 
 
 cause, 
 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 stufif, 
 Live chattels, mincers of each 
 
 other's fame, 
 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 flaunt, to dress, to dance, 
 
 to thrum. 
 To tramp, to scream, to burnish, 
 
 and to scour, 
 500 For ever slaves at home and fools 
 \ abroad.' 
 
 She, ending, waved her hands; 
 
 thereat the crowd 
 Muttering, dissolved: then with 
 
 a smile, that look'd 
 A stroke of cruel sunshine on the 
 
 dm, 
 
 When all the glens are drown'd 
 
 in azure gloom 
 Of thunder-shower, she floated 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. 
 You saved our life: we owe you 510 
 
 bitter thanks: 
 Better have died and spilt our 
 
 bones in the flood — 
 Then men had said — but now — 
 
 What hinders me 
 To take such bloody vengeance 
 
 on you both? — 
 Yet since our father — Wasps in 
 
 our good hive. 
 You would-be quenchers of the 
 
 light to be. 
 Barbarians, grosser than your na- 
 tive bears — 
 
 would I had his sceptre for one 
 
 hour! 
 You that have dared to break our 
 
 bound, and gull'd 
 Our servants, wrong'd and lied 
 
 and thwarted us — 
 
 1 wed with thee! I bound by pre- 520 
 
 contract 
 Your bride, your bondslave! not 
 
 tho' all the gold 
 That veins the world were pack'd 
 
 to make your crown. 
 And every spoken tongue should 
 
 lord-6 you. Sir, 
 Your falsehood and yourself are 
 
 hateful to us: 
 I trample on your offers and on 
 
 you: 
 
 26 Call you lord. 
 
58 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Begone: we will not look upon 
 
 you more. 
 Here, push them out at gates.' 
 
 In wrath she spake. 
 Then those eight mighty -daugh- 
 ters of the plough 
 Bent their broad faces toward us 
 
 and address'd 
 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. 
 
 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 the weird seizure and 
 
 the doubt: 
 I seem'd to move among a world 
 
 of ghosts; 
 
 The Princess with her monstrous 54° 
 
 woman-guard, 
 The jest and earnest working side 
 
 by side. 
 The cataract and the tumult and 
 
 the kings 
 Were shadows; and the long fan- 
 tastic night 
 With all its doings had and had 
 
 not been, 
 And all things were and were not. 
 This went by 
 As strangely as it came, and on 
 
 my spirits 
 Settled a gentle cloud of melan- 
 choly; 
 Not long; I shook it off; for spite 
 
 of doubts 
 And sudden ghostly shadowings 
 
 I was one 
 To whom the touch of all mis- 550 
 
 chance but came 
 As night to him that sitting on a 
 
 hill 
 Sees the midsummer, midnight, 
 
 Norway sun 
 Set into sunrise; then we moved 
 
 away. 
 
 ^=9 
 
PART IV. 
 
 59 
 
 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 : 
 A moment, while the trumpets blow. 
 
 He sees his brood about thy knee ; 
 And next, like fire he meets the foe. 
 
 And strikes him dead for thine and 
 thee. 
 
 So Lilia sang: we thought her 
 
 half-possess'd, 
 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. 
 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 Ralph has got your colors; 
 
 if I prove 
 Your knight, and fight your bat- 
 tle, what for me?' 
 It chanced, her empty glove upon 
 
 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, 
 A cap of Tyrol borrow'd from the 
 
 hall, 
 Arranged the favor, and assumed 
 
 the Prince. 
 
»€lo-<.pc3vT?»45?cS^ rv^^-st^T^ra^i-cs^": 
 
 PART V. 
 
 »Tv:222!i*'S?=s-iC5i? c.xii,'^?=£3=£5>rtf 
 
 NOW, scarce three paces meas- 
 ured 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; 
 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 en- 
 sign shake 
 From blazon'd lions o'er the im- 
 perial tent 
 ,Q 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 
 A strangled titter, out of which 
 
 there brake 
 On all sides, clamoring etiquette 
 
 to death. 
 Unmeasured mirth; while now 
 
 the two old kings 
 Began to wag their baldness up 
 and down, 
 
 ' A sentinel. 
 
 « Cf. Part III, line io6. 
 
 The fresh young captains flash'd 
 
 their glittering teeth. 
 The huge bush-bearded barons 
 
 heaved and blew. 
 And slain with laughter roll'd the 
 
 gilded squire. 
 
 At length my sire, his rough 
 
 cheek wet with tears. 
 Panted from weary sides, 'King, 
 
 you are free ! 
 We did but keep you surety for 
 
 our son, 
 If this be he, — or a draggled raaw- 
 
 kin,'^ 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, disprinced from 
 
 head to heel. 
 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 shad- 
 ows!' — thus the King 
 Roar'd — 'make yourself a man to 
 
 fight with men. 
 Go: Cyril told us all.' 
 
 As boys that slink 
 From ferule and the trespass- 
 chiding eye, 
 
 sWb. Malkin ; Cf. Cor. II, 1:224. 
 
PART V. 
 
 6i 
 
 Away we stole, and transient in a 
 
 trice 
 From what was left of faded wo- 
 man-slough 
 To sheathing splendors and the 
 
 golden scale 
 Of harness, issued 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, but by and by 
 We twain, with mutual pardon 
 
 ask'd and given 
 For stroke and song, resolder'd 
 
 peace, whereon 
 Follow'd his tale. Amazed he 
 
 fled away 
 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, 
 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 ac- 
 coutrements, 
 Pitiful sight, wrapp'd in a sol- 
 dier's cloak. 
 Like some sweet sculpture draped 
 
 from head to foot. 
 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. 
 
 Then Florian knelt, and 'Come,' 60 
 
 he whisper'd to her, 
 'Lift up your head, sweet sister: 
 
 ke not thus. 
 What have you done but right? 
 
 you could not slay 
 Me, nor your prince: look up: be 
 
 comforted: 
 Sweet is it to have done the thing 
 
 one ought, 
 When fallen 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 moved, 
 She moan'd, a folded voice; and 
 
 up she sat. 
 And raised the cloak from brows 70 
 
 as pale and smooth 
 As those that mourn half-shroud- 
 ed 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? 
 O 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. 
 
 'Ah me, my babe, my blossom, 
 
 ah, my child. 
 My one sweet child, whom I shall 80 
 
 see no more! 
 For now will cruel Ida keep her 
 
 back; 
 
 ♦ See Part II, lines 275-280. 
 
62 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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. 
 The child is hers; and they will 
 
 beat my girl 
 Remembering her mother: O my 
 
 fiower! 
 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 III mother that I was to leave her 
 
 there. 
 To lag behind, scared 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, 
 Until they hate to hear me like a 
 
 wind 
 Wailing for ever, till they open 
 
 to me. 
 And lay my little blossom at my 
 
 feet, 
 My babe, my sweet Aglai'a, my 
 
 one child; 
 And I will take her up and go my 
 
 way, 
 ]oo And satisfy my soul with kissing 
 
 her: 
 Ah! what might that man not de- 
 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, 
 
 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 
 Found the gray kings at parle:-' no 
 
 and 'Look you,' cried 
 My father, 'that our compact be 
 
 fulfill'd: 
 You have spoilt this child; she 
 
 laughs at you and man: 
 She wrongs herself, her sex, and 
 
 me, and him: 
 But red-faced war has rods of steel 
 
 and fire; 
 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, 
 O king,' I said, 'lest from the 120 
 
 abuse of war. 
 The desecrated shrine, the tram- 
 pled year, 
 The smouldering homestead, and 
 
 the household flower 
 Torn from the lintel — all the 
 
 common wrong — 
 A smoke go up thro' which I 
 
 loom to her 
 Three times a monster: now she 
 
 lightens scorn 
 At him that mars her plan, but 
 
 then would hate >\ 
 
 (And every voice she talk'd with 
 
 ratify it, 
 
 5 In conference. 
 
PART V. 
 
 63 
 
 And every face she look'd on jus- 
 tify 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 cata- 
 pults? 
 
 She would not love; — or brought 
 her chain'd, a slave, 
 
 The lifting of whose eyelash is 
 mj' lord? 
 
 Not ever would she love, but 
 brooding turn 
 
 The book of scorn, till all my flit- 
 ting chance 
 
 Were caught within the record 
 of her wrongs 
 
 And crush'd to death: and rath- 
 er, Sire, than this 
 
 I would the old God of war him- 
 self were dead, 
 140 Forgotten, rusting on his iron 
 hills. 
 
 Rotting on some wild shore with 
 ribs of wreck. 
 
 Or like an old-world mammoth 
 bulk'd in ice. 
 
 Not to be molten out.' 
 
 And roughly spake 
 
 My father, 'Tut, you know them 
 not, the girls. 
 
 Boy, when I hear you prate I al- 
 most 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 love us for it, and we ride 
 them down. 
 
 <• See Part I, lines 5-10. 
 
 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 beaute- 
 ous battle, comes 
 With the air of the trumpet round 
 
 him, and leaps in 
 Among the women, snares them 
 
 by the score 
 Platter'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, 
 Worth winning; but this fire- 160 
 
 brand — 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, but. Sire,' I cried, 
 'Wild natures need wise curbs. 
 
 The soldier? No: 
 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 flung de- 
 fiance down 
 Gagelike to man, and had not 170 
 
 shunn'd the death. 
 No, not the soldier's; yet I hold 
 
 her, king. 
 True woman: but you clash them 
 
 all in one. 
 That have as many difYerences as 
 
 we. 
 
 ' Fruit trees were often protected from 
 birds by light nets. 
 
64 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 The violet varies from the lily as 
 
 far 
 As oak from elm: one loves the 
 
 soldier, one 
 The silken priest of peace, one 
 
 this, one that, 
 And some unworthily; their sin- 
 less faith, 
 A maiden moon that sparkles on 
 
 a sty, 
 Glorifying clov^^n and satyr; 
 
 whence they need 
 i8o 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 influ- 
 ences 
 Of earth and heaven? and she of 
 
 whom you speak, 
 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 
 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 
 This red-hot iron to be shaped 200 
 
 with blows. 
 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, 
 I would he had our daughter: for 
 
 the rest, 
 Our own detention, why, the 
 
 causes weigh'd. 
 Fatherly fears — you used us cour- 
 teously — 
 We would .do much to gratify 
 
 your Prince — 
 We pardon it; and for your in- 
 gress here 
 Upon the skirt and fringe of our 210 
 
 fair land. 
 You did but come as goblins in 
 
 the night. 
 Nor in the furrow broke the 
 
 ploughman's head. 
 Nor burnt the grange, nor buss'd 
 
 the milking-maid. 
 Nor robb'd the farmer of his bowl 
 
 of cream: 
 But let your Prince (our royal 
 
 word upon it. 
 He comes back safe) ride with us 
 
 to our lines. 
 And speak with Arac: Arac's 
 
 word is thrice 
 As ours with Ida: something may 
 
 'oe done — 
 I know not what — and ours shall 
 
 see us friends. 
 You, likewise, our late guests, if 220 
 
 so you will. 
 
PART V. 
 
 65 
 
 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-muffled in 
 
 his beard. 
 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 Valen- 
 tines, and woke 
 30 Desire in me to infuse my tale of 
 love 
 
 In the old king's ears, who prom- 
 ised help, and oozed 
 
 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 
 
 On our mail'd heads: but other 
 thoughts than peace 
 
 Burnt in us, when we saw the em- 
 battled 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; 
 140 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, un- 
 dulated 
 
 The banner: anon to meet us 
 lightly pranced 
 
 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 East, that play'd upon 
 them, made them glance 
 
 Like those three stars of the airy 250 
 Giant's*" zone. 
 
 That glitter burnish'd by the fros- 
 ty dark; 
 
 And as the fiery Sirius alters hue, 
 
 And bickers into red and emerald, 
 shone 
 
 Their morions, wash'd with morn- 
 ing, as they came. 
 
 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 
 
 And now a pointed finger, told 260 
 them all: 
 
 A common light of smiles at our 
 disguise 
 
 Broke from their lips, and, ere the 
 windy jest 
 
 Had labor'd down within his am- 
 ple lungs. 
 
 The genial giant, Arac, roll'd him- 
 self 
 
 Thrice in the saddle, then burst 
 out in words: 
 
 8 See Orion. CI. Diet. 
 
66 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 '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! 
 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 wo- 
 mankind. 
 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 candle-light — 
 Swear by Saint^ something — I 
 
 forget her name — 
 Her that talk'd down the fifty 
 
 wisest men; , 
 
 She was a princess too; and so I 
 
 swore. 
 Come, this is all; she will not: 
 
 waive your claim: 
 If not, the foughten field, what 
 else, at once 
 
 9 St. Catherine ot Alexandria, usually 
 represented with a wheel. 
 
 Decides it. 'sdeath! against my 
 father's will.' 
 
 I lagg'd in answer, loth to ren- 
 der up 
 
 My precontract, and loth by 290 
 brainless war 
 
 To cleave the rift of difiference 
 deeper yet; 
 
 Till one of those two brothers, 
 half aside 
 
 And fingering at the hair about 
 his lip. 
 
 To prick us on to combat, 'Like 
 to like! 
 
 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 coun- 
 ter-scoff. 
 
 And sharp I answer'd, touch'd 
 upon the point 
 
 Where idle boys are cowards to 
 their shame, 
 
 'Decide it here: why not? we are 3o( 
 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. 
 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 ilake of rainbow flying on 
 the highest 
 
PART V. 
 
 67 
 
 510 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," 
 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!' shrieked the old king, 
 
 but vainlier than a hen 
 To her false daughters in the 
 
 pool; for noue 
 120 Regarded; neither seem'd there 
 
 more to say: 
 Back rode we to my father's camp, 
 
 and found 
 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 
 With her own people's life: three 
 
 times he went: 
 The first, he blew and blew, but 
 
 none appear'd: 
 He batter'd at the doors; none 
 
 came: the next. 
 An awful voice within had warn'd 
 
 him thence: 
 The third, and those eight daugh- 
 ters of the plough 
 30 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 pur- 
 pose, firm 
 
 Tho' 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 
 
 The torrents, dash'd to the vale: 340 
 and yet her will 
 
 Bred will in me to overcome it 
 or fall. 
 
 But when I told the king that 
 
 I was pledged 
 To fight in tourney for my bride, 
 
 he clash'd 
 His iron palms together with a 
 
 cry; 
 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, 
 And sware to combat for my 350 
 
 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 blos- 
 som-belts, 
 
 A column'd entry shone and 
 marble stairs. 
 
68 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 And great bronze valves, em- 
 
 boss'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 
 
 hammer'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 
 Oration-like. I kiss'd it and I 
 
 read: 
 
 'O brother, you have known the 
 pangs we felt. 
 
 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 ;i- 
 
 Of living hearts that crack within 
 the fire 
 370 Where smoulder their dead des- 
 pots; 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 
 
 That equal baseness lived in sleek- 
 er times 
 
 '"Cl. Diet. 
 
 "See eighth chapter, Scott's Ivanhoe. 
 
 '> An old Russian custom. 
 
 With smoother men; the old 
 leaven leaven'd ail: 
 
 Millions of throats would bawl 
 for civil rights. 
 
 No woman named: therefore I 
 set my face 
 
 Against all men, and lived but 
 for mine own. 
 
 Far ofY from men I built a fold 
 for them; 
 
 I stored it full of rich memorial; 
 
 I fenced it round with gallant 
 institutes, 
 
 And biting laws to scare the 
 beasts of prey, 
 
 And prosper'd; till a rout of 
 saucy boys 
 
 Brake on us at our books, and 
 marr'd our peace, 
 
 Mask'd like our maids, blustering 
 I know not what 
 
 Of insolence and love, some pre- 
 text held 
 
 Of baby troth, invalid, since my 
 will 
 
 Seal'd not the bond — the strip- 
 lings! — for their sport! — 
 
 I tamed my leopards: shall I not 
 tame these? 
 
 Or you? or I? for since you think 
 me touch'd 
 
 In honor — what! I would not 
 aught of false — 
 
 Is not our cause pure? and where- 
 as I know 
 
 Your prowess, .A.rac, and what 
 mother's blood 
 
 You draw from, fight; you fail- 
 ing, 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. O dear 
 
PART V 
 
 69 
 
 10 Brothers, the woman's Angel 
 
 guards 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 
 Rear'd, sung to, when, this gadfly 
 
 brush'd aside, 
 We plant a solid foot into the 
 
 Time, 
 And mould a generation strong 
 
 to move 
 With claim on claim from right 
 
 to right, till she 
 Whose name is yoked with chil- 
 dren's, know herself; 
 And Knowledge in our own land 
 
 make her free, 
 [o 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.' 
 
 Then came a postscript's dash'd 
 across the rest: 
 
 '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: in- 
 deed I think 
 20 Our chiefest comfort is the little 
 child 
 . Of one imworthy mother; which 
 she left: 
 
 '3 A frequent conclusion to a woman's 
 letter. 
 
 She shall not have it back; the 
 
 child shall grow 
 To prize the authentic mother of 
 
 her mind. 
 I took it for an hour in mine own 
 
 bed 
 This morning; there the tender 
 
 orphan hands 
 Felt at my heart, and seem'd to 
 
 charm from thence 
 The wrath I nursed against the 
 
 world: farewell.' 
 
 I ceased; he said, 'Stubborn, but 
 she may sit 
 
 Upon a king's right hand in thun- 
 der-storms. 
 
 And breed up warriors! See now, 430 
 tho' yourself 
 
 Be dazzled by the wildfire Love 
 to sloughs 
 
 That swallow common sense, the 
 spindling king, 
 
 This Gama swamp'd in lazy toler- 
 ance. 
 
 When the man wants weight, the 
 woman takes it up. 
 
 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 sword and for the 
 needle she; 
 
 Man with the head and woman 
 with the heart; 
 
 Man to command and woman to 440 
 obey; 
 
 All else confusion. Look you! the 
 gray mare 
 
 Is ill to live with, when her whin- 
 ny shrills 
 
 From tile to scullery, and her 
 small goodman 
 
 Shrinks in his arm-chair while 
 the fires of hell 
 
70 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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 de- 
 testable 
 
 That let the bantling scald at 
 home, and brawl 
 
 Their rights or wrongs like pot- 
 herbs 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, 
 
 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 pored upon her letter which I 
 held. 
 
 And on the little clause, 'take not 
 his life;' 
 460 I mused 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 
 
 That one should fight with shad- 
 ows and should fall; 
 
 And like a flash the weird affec- 
 tion 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. 
 To dream myself the shadow of a 
 
 dream ; 
 And ere I woke it was the point 
 
 of noon. 
 The lists were ready. Empano- 
 
 plied and plumed 
 We enter'd in, and waited, fifty 
 
 there 
 Opposed to fifty, till the trumpet 
 
 blared 
 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 
 In conflict with the crash of shiv- 
 ering points. 
 And thunder. Yet it seem'd a 
 
 dream, I dream'd 
 Of fighting. On his haunches 
 
 rose the steed. 
 And into fiery splinters leapt the 
 
 lance. 
 And out of stricken helmets 
 
 sprang the fire. 
 Part sat like rocks; part reel'd 
 
 but kept their seats; 
 Part roll'd on the earth and rose 
 
 again and drew; 
 Part stumbled niixt with floun- 
 dering horses. Down 
 From those two bulks at Arac's 
 
 side, and down 
 From Arac's arm, as from a 
 
 giant's flail, 
 The large blows rain'd, as here 
 
 and everywhere 
 
PART V. 
 
 71 
 
 He rode the rnellay,!* lord of the 
 
 ringing lists. 
 And all the plain, — brand, mace, 
 
 and shaft, and shield — ■ 
 Shock'd, like an iron-clanging an- 
 vil bang'd 
 With hammers; till I thought, can 
 
 this be he 
 From Gama's dwarfish loins? if 
 
 this be so, 
 The mother makes us most — and 
 
 in my dream 
 I glanced aside, and saw the 
 
 palace-front 
 Alive with fluttering scarfs and 
 
 ladies' eyes, 
 And highest, among the statues, 
 
 statue-like, 
 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 
 No saint — inexorable — no tender- 
 ness — 
 Too hard, too cruel: yet she sees 
 
 me fight, 
 Yea, let her see me fall! with that 
 
 I drave 
 Among the thickest and bore 
 
 down a Prince, 
 And Cyril one. Yea, let me make 
 
 my dream 
 All that I would. But that large- 
 moulded man, 
 o His visage all agrin as at a 
 1, wake,!^ 
 
 '♦See Wb 
 
 '5 Originally a wake was an all-night 
 feast to commemorate the building of a 
 church, but after a time devotion became 
 lessened and the feast degenerated to a 
 merry making. 
 
 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. 
 And shadowing down the cham- 
 paign till it strikes 
 On a wood, and takes, and breaks, 
 
 and cracks, and splits. 
 And twists the grain with such a 
 
 roar that Earth 
 Reels, and the herdsmen cry; for 
 
 everything 
 Gave way before him: only Flo- 
 
 rian, he 
 That loved me closer than his 520 
 
 own right eye, 
 Thrust 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; 
 But tougher, heavier, stronger, 
 
 he that smote 
 And threw him: last I spurr'd; I 
 
 felt my veins 
 Stretch with fierce heat; a mo- 
 ment hand to hand, 
 And sword to sword, and horse 
 
 to horse we hung. 
 Till I struck out and shouted; the 
 
 blade glanced, 
 I did but shear a feather, and 530 
 
 dream and truth 
 Flow'd from me; darkness closed 
 
 me; and I fell. 
 
72 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Then they praised him, soft and 
 low, 
 Call'd him worthy to be loved. 
 Truest friend and noblest foe; 
 Yet she neither spoke nor 
 moved. 
 
 Stole a maiden from her 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.' 
 
'€?0-e»jX?VT?<».fj;5=^ •^'5^«i=svtrjai-<4^e: 
 
 PART VI. 
 
 1if*^2sd2:-^3S=:,=-C:;!J CJc:i>':g'=C5:>5t?=f(S! 
 
 A/I Y dream had never died or 
 
 ^'* lived 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 
 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 onr side was van- 
 
 quish'd and my cause 
 For ever lost, there went up a 
 
 great cry, 
 "The Prince is slain.' My father 
 
 heard and ran 
 In on the lists, and there unlaced 
 
 my casque 
 And grovell'd on my body, and 
 
 after him 
 Came Psyche, sorrowing for 
 
 Aglaia. 
 
 But high upon the palace Ida 
 
 stood 
 With Psyche's babe in arm; there 
 
 on the roofs 
 Like that great dame of Lapidoth^ 
 
 she sang. 
 
 ' See Judges IV, lines 4, 5. 
 
 Our enemies have fallen, have fallen : 
 
 the seed, 
 The little seed they laugh'd at in the 
 
 dark, 
 Has risen and cleft the soil, and grown 
 
 a bulk 
 Of spanless girth, that lays on every 
 
 side 
 A thousand arms and rushes to the sun. 
 
 Our enemies have fallen, have fallen : 
 they came ; 
 
 The leaves were wet with women's 
 tears ; thej' heard 
 
 A noise of songs they would not under- 
 stand ; 
 
 They mark'd it with the red cross to 
 the fall, 
 
 And would have strown it, and are 
 fallen themselves. 
 
 Our enemies have fallen, have fallen . 
 
 they came, 
 The woodmen with their axes : lo the 
 
 tree ! 
 But we will make it faggots for the 
 
 hearth ; 
 And shape it plank and beam for roof 
 
 and floor. 
 And boats and bridges for the use of 
 
 men. 
 
 Our enemies have fallen, have fallen ; 
 they struck ; 
 
 With tneir own blows they hurt them- 
 selves, nor knew 
 
 There dwelt an iron nature in the 
 grain ; 
 
 The glittering axe was broken in their 
 arms. 
 
 Their arms were shatter'd to the 
 shoulder blade. 
 
 Our enemies have fallen, but this 
 
 shall grow 
 A night of Summer from the heat, a 
 
 breadth 
 Of Autumn, dropping fruits of power ; 
 
 and roll'd 
 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. 
 
 30 
 
74 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 'And now, O maids, behold our 
 sanctuary 
 
 Is violate, our laws broken: fear 
 we not 
 
 To break them more in their be- 
 hoof, whose arms 
 
 Champion'd our cause and won 
 it with a day 
 
 Blanch'd in our annals, and per- 
 petual 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. 
 
 Let them not lie in the tents with 
 coarse mankind, 
 
 111 nurses; but descend, and prof- 
 fer these 
 
 The brethren of our blood and 
 cause, that there 
 
 Lie bruised and maim'd, the ten- 
 der ministries 
 
 Of female hands and hospitality.' 
 
 She spoke, and with the babe 
 
 yet in her arms. 
 Descending burst the great bronze 
 
 valves, 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. 
 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 fields into the lists 
 
 they wound 
 Timorously; and as the leader of 
 
 the herd 
 That holds a stately fretwork to 70 
 
 the sun, 
 And follow'd 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; 
 Knelt on one knee, — the child on 
 
 one, — and prest 
 Their hands, and call'd them dear 
 
 deliverers. 
 And happy warriors, and immor- 
 tal names. 
 And said, 'You shall not lie in the 
 
 tents but here. 
 And nursed by those for whom 
 
 you fought, and served 
 With female hands and hospital- so 
 
 ity.' 
 
 Then, whether moved by this. 
 
 or was it chance. 
 She past my way. Up started from 
 
 my side 
 The old lion, glaring with his 
 
 whelpless eye. 
 Silent; but when she saw me 
 
 lying stark. 
 Dishelm'd and mute, and mo- 
 
 tionlessly pale. 
 Cold e'en to her, she sigh'd; and 
 
 when she saw 
 The haggard father's face and rev- 
 erend beard 
 Of grisly twine, all dabbled with 
 
 the blood 
 Of his own son, shudder'd. a 
 
 twitch of pain 
 
PART VI. 
 
 75 
 
 90 Tortured her mouth, and o'er her 
 
 forehead past 
 A shadow, and her hue changed, 
 
 and she said: 
 'He saved my Hfe; my brother 
 
 slew him for it.' 
 No more; at which the king in 
 
 bitter scorn 
 Drew from my neck the painting 
 
 and the tress, 
 And held them up: she saw them. 
 
 and a day 
 Rose from the distance on her 
 
 memory. 
 When the good queen, her moth- 
 er, shore the tress 
 With kisses, ere the days of Lady 
 
 Blanche: 
 And then once more she look'd 
 
 at my pale face: 
 00 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 
 A feeling finger on my brows, and 
 
 presently 
 'O Sire,' she said, 'he lives; he is 
 
 not dead: 
 O 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, 
 10 To lighten this great clog of 
 
 thanks, that make 
 Our progress falter to the wo- 
 man's goal.' 
 
 She said: but at the happy word 
 'he lives' 
 
 My father sioop'd, re-father'd- 
 
 o'er my wounds. 
 So those two foes above my fal- 
 len life. 
 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-fallen meteor on 
 
 the grass, 
 Uncared for, spied its mother and 120 
 
 began 
 A blind and babbling laughter, 
 
 and to dance 
 Its body, and reach its fatling in- 
 nocent arms 
 And lazy lingering fingers. She 
 
 the appeal 
 Brook'd not, but clamoring out 
 
 "Mine — mine— not yours; 
 It is not yours, but mine: give me 
 
 the child!' 
 Ceased 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 bl'ooming 
 
 mantle torn. 
 Red grief and mother's hunger in 130 
 
 her eye, 
 And down dead-heavy sank her 
 
 curls, and half 
 The sacred mother's bosom, pant- 
 ing, burst 
 The laces toward her babe; but 
 
 she nor cared 
 
 2 Became once more a father, the son 
 having come to life. 
 
 3 The prefix a in such words as afoot, 
 etc., is merelj' a contraction of on. See 
 Acts XIII, 36. 
 
76 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Nor knew it, clamoring on, till 
 
 Ida heard, 
 Look'd up, and rising slowly from 
 
 me, stood 
 Erect and silent, strikmg 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, pity- 
 ing as it seem'd. 
 Or self-involved; but when she 
 
 learnt his face. 
 Remembering his ill-omen d song, 
 
 arose . 
 
 Once more thro' all her height, 
 
 and o'er him grew 
 Tall as a figure lengthen'd on the 
 
 sand 
 When the tide ebbs in sunshine, 
 and he said: 
 
 •O fair and strong and terrible! 
 
 Lioness 
 That with your long locks play 
 
 the lion's mane! 
 But Love and Nature, these are 
 
 tw© 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! remain 
 Orb'd in your isolation: he is 
 
 dead, ^ , , ^ 
 
 Or all as dead: henceforth we let 
 
 you be: 
 Win you the hearts of women; 
 
 and beware 
 Lest, where you seek the com- 
 mon love of these, 
 
 The common hate with the re- 
 volving wheel 
 Should drag you down, and some 
 
 great Nemesis 
 Break from a darken'd future, 
 
 crown'd with fire. 
 And tread you out for ever: but 160 
 
 howsoe'er 
 Fixt in yourself, never in your 
 
 own arms 
 To hold your own, deny not hers 
 
 to her, 
 Give her the child! O if, I say, 
 
 you keep 
 One pulse that beats true woman, 
 
 if you loved 
 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 
 The tenderness, not yours, that i7< 
 
 could not kill. 
 Give me it; I will give it her. 
 
 He said: 
 \t first her eve with slow dilation 
 
 roU'd 
 Dry flame, she listening; after 
 
 sank and sank 
 And, into mournful twilight mel- 
 lowing, dwelt 
 Full on the child; she took it: 
 
 •Pretty bud! 
 Lily of the vale! half-open'd bell 
 
 of the woods! 
 Sole comfort of my dark hour, 
 
 when a world 
 Of traitorous friend and broken 
 
 system made 
 No purple in the distance, mys- 
 tery, 
 
PART VI . 
 
 77 
 
 So 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 
 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. 
 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 sup- 
 
 pliantly : 
 
 * 'We two were friends: I go to 
 
 mine own land 
 200 For ever: find some other: as for 
 , me 
 
 I scarce am fit for your great 
 plans: yet speak to me, 
 
 *The early dawn, when all is still. 
 
 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; 
 You wrong yourselves — the wo- 
 man is so hard 
 Upon the woman. Come, a grace 
 
 to me! 
 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.' 
 
 But Ida spoke not, gazing on 210 
 
 the ground. 
 And reddening in the furrows of 
 
 his chin. 
 And moved beyond his custom, 
 
 Gama said: 
 
 'I've heard that there is iron in 
 the blood. 
 
 And I believe it. Not one word? 
 not one? 
 
 Whence drew you this steel tem- 
 per? 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 au- 
 thority 
 
 Be near her still;" and I — I 220 
 sought for one; — 
 
 All people said she had author- 
 ity— 
 
 The Lady Blanche: much profit! 
 Not one word; 
 
 No! tho' your father sues: see 
 how you stand 
 
78 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Stiff as Lot's wife, and all the 
 
 good knights maim'd, 
 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 be- 
 neath 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 flush'd 
 
 you said to me. 
 Now had you got a friend of your 
 
 own age. 
 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 
 You talk'd with, whole nights 
 
 long, up in the tower. 
 Of sine and arc, spheroid and 
 azimuth,^ 
 240 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 judg- 
 ment too. Not one? 
 You will not? well — no heart 
 
 have you, or such 
 As fancies like the vermin in a nut 
 
 6 Terms used in derision by the king 
 to imply his contempt and anger. 
 
 Have fretted all to dust and bit- 
 terness.' 
 
 So said the small king moved be- 
 yond his wont. 
 
 But Ida stood nor spoke, 
 drain'd of her force 
 
 By many a varying influence and 250 
 so long. 
 
 Down thro' her limbs a drooping 
 languor wept: 
 
 Her head a little bent; and on her 
 mouth 
 
 A doubtful smile dwelt like a 
 clouded moon 
 
 In a still water: then brake out 
 my sire. 
 
 Lifting his grim head from my 
 wounds: 'O you. 
 
 Woman, whom we thought wo- 
 man 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, 
 
 And think that you might mix his 26c 
 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 
 
 A genial warmth and light once 
 more, and shone 
 
 Thro' glittering drops on her sad 
 friend. 
 
 'Come hither, 
 O Psyche.' she cried out, "em- 
 brace me, come. 
 Quick while I melt; make recon- 
 cilement sure 
 With one that cannot keep her 
 mind an hour: 
 
PART VI. 
 
 79 
 
 !7o Come to the hollow heart they 
 
 slander so! 
 Kiss and be friends, like children 
 
 being chid! 
 I seem no more: I want forgive- 
 ness too: 
 I should have had to do with 
 
 none but maids. 
 That have no links with men. Ah 
 
 false but dear. 
 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, O Sire, 
 Grant me your son, to nurse, to 
 
 wait upon him, 
 !8o Like mine own brother. For my 
 
 debt to him, 
 This nightmare weight of grati- 
 tude, 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: 
 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 
 290 The soft and milky rabble of wo- 
 mankind. 
 Poor weakling even as they are.' 
 Passionate tears 
 Follow'd: the king replied not: 
 
 Cyril said: 
 
 « Free entrance, opposite of exit. 
 
 'Your brother. Lady, — Florian, — 
 ask for him 
 
 Of your great Head — for he is 
 wounded too — 
 
 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, 
 
 And had a cousin tumbled on the 
 plain. 
 
 Petition'd too for him. 'Ay, so,' 
 she said, 
 
 'I stagger in the stream; I can- 
 not keep 
 
 My heart an eddy from the brawl- 
 ing hour: 
 
 We break our laws with ease, but 
 let it be.' 
 
 'Ay, so?' said Blanche: 'Amazed 
 am I to hear 
 
 Your Highness; but your High- 
 ness breaks with ease 
 
 The law your Highness did not 
 make: 't was L 
 
 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.' 
 
 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. 
 Rang ruin, answer'd full of grief 
 
 and scorn: 
 
 'Fling our doors wide! all, all, 
 not one, but all. 
 
 300 
 
8o 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Not 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 
 320 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 
 Her brother came; the king her 
 
 father charm'd 
 Her wounded soul with words: 
 
 nor did mine own 
 Refuse her profifer, lastly gave his 
 
 hand. 
 
 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 
 Rested: but great the crush was, 
 
 and each base, 
 To left and right, of those tall 
 
 columns drown'd 
 In silken fluctuation and the 
 
 swarm 
 
 'An ancient lighthouse near Alexan- 
 dria. 
 
 Of female whisperers: at the fur- 
 ther 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 
 
 centre stood 
 The common men with rolling 340. 
 
 eyes; amazed 
 They glared upon the women, and 
 
 aghast 
 The women stared at these, all 
 
 silent, save 
 When armor clash'd or jingled, 
 
 while the day. 
 Descending, struck athwart the 
 
 hall, and shot 
 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, 
 And shuddering fled from room 350 
 
 to room, and died 
 Of fright in far apartments. 
 
 Then the voice 
 Of Ida sounded, issuing ordi- 
 nance: 
 And me they bore up the broad 
 
 stairs, and thro' 
 The long-laid galleries past a hun- 
 dred doors 
 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 
 
 8 In heraldry, the figures which sur- 
 round the central shield in a coat of arms. 
 
 9 Cf. Prol., line So. 
 
PART IT. 
 
 That afternoon a sound arose of 
 hoof 
 
 And chariot, many a maiden pass- 
 ing home 
 560 Till happier times; but some were 
 left of those 
 
 Held sagest, and the great lords 
 out and in. 
 
 From those two hosts that lay be- 
 side the wall, 
 
 Walk'd at their will, and every- 
 thing was changed. 
 
 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 O too fond, when have I an- 
 swer'd thee? 
 
 Ask me no more. 
 
 Ask me no more: what answer 
 should I give ? 
 I love not hollow cheek or fad- 
 ed eye: 
 Yet, O my friend, I will not 
 have thee die! 
 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. 
 
?='-Ko-<.j:Xvv^.tj;!c=^ «'P5o3'=^=5=:^vr3''=3-<3:»l^ 
 
 PARTVll. 
 
 4I5;:?22!ir5s=wC^ t?;:ii=,'g==^3:^^!t^(? 
 
 SO was their sanctuary violated, 
 So their fair college turn'd to 
 hospital; 
 
 At first with all confusion: by 
 and by 
 
 Sweet order lived again with oth- 
 er laws: 
 
 A kindlier influence reign'd; and 
 everywhere 
 
 Low voices with the ministering 
 hand 
 
 Hung round the sick: the maid- 
 ens 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. 
 
 Like creatures native unto gra- 
 cious act. 
 
 And in their own clear element, 
 they moved. 
 
 But sadness on the soul of Ida 
 
 fell. 
 And hatred of her weakness, 
 
 blent with shame. 
 Old studies fail'd; seldom she 
 
 spoke; but oft 
 Clomb to the roofs, and gazed 
 
 alone for hours 
 On that disastrous leaguer, 
 
 swarms of men 
 Darkening her female field: void 
 
 was her use. 
 
 And she as one that climbs a peak 20 
 
 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. 
 And quenching lake by lake and 
 
 tarn by tarn 
 Expunge the world: so fared she 
 
 gazing there; 
 So blacken'd all her world in se- 
 cret, blank 
 And waste it seem'd and vain; till 
 
 down she came. 
 And found fair peace once more 
 
 among the sick. 
 
 And twilight dawn'd; and morn 
 
 by morn the lark 
 Shot up and shrill'd in flickering 
 
 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 them- 
 selves, and Heaven, 
 Star after star, arose and fell; but 
 
 L 
 Deeper than those weird doubts 
 
 could reach me, lay 
 Quite sunder'd from the moving 
 
 Universe, 
 
 ' Cf. Part IV, line 29. 
 
PART VII. 
 
 Nor knew what eye was on me, 
 nor the hand 
 
 That nursed me, more than in- 
 fants in their sleep. 
 
 \o But Psyche tended Florian: 
 with her oft 
 
 AleHssa 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, glanced about 
 the couch. 
 
 Or thro' the parted silks the ten- 
 der face 
 
 Peep'd. shining in upon the 
 wounded man 
 
 With blush and smile, a medicine 
 in themselves 
 
 To wile the length from languor- 
 ous 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 side; 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 trem- 
 ble deeper down. 
 
 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; 
 
 Not tho' he built upon the babe 60 
 
 restored; 
 Nor tho' she liked 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 
 A moment, and she heard, at 
 
 which her face 
 A little flush'd, and she past on; 
 
 but each 
 Assumed from thence a half-con- 
 sent involved 
 In stillness, plighted troth, and 
 
 were at peace. 
 
 Nor only these: Love in the 
 sacred halls 
 
 Held carnival at will, and flying 70 
 struck 
 
 With showers of random sweet on 
 maid and man. 
 
 Nor did her father cease to press 
 my claim, 
 
 Nor did mine own now recon- 
 ciled; nor yet 
 
 Did those twin brothers, risen 
 again and whole; 
 
 Nor Arac, satiate with his victory. 
 
 But I lay still, and with me oft 
 she sat: 
 
 Then came a change; for some- 
 times I would catch 
 
 Her hand in wild delirium, gripe 
 it hard. 
 
 And fling it like a viper ofif, and 
 shriek, 
 
 'You are not Ida;' clasp it once 80 
 again. 
 
 And- call her Ida, tho' I knew her 
 not, 
 
 2 Note that of lines 81 to 97, three only 
 do not begin with and. 
 
84 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 And call her sweet, as if in irony, 
 And call her hard and cold, which 
 
 seem'd a truth; 
 And still she fear'd that I should 
 
 lose my mind. 
 And often she believed 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, or call'd 
 90 On fiying Time from all their sil- 
 ver tongues — 
 And out of memories of her kind- 
 lier days, 
 And sidelong glances at my fath- 
 er's grief. 
 And at the happy lovers heart in 
 
 heart — 
 And out of hauntings of my spok- 
 en love, 
 , And lonely listenings to my mut- 
 ter'd dream, 
 And often feeling of the helpless 
 
 hands. 
 And wordless broodings on the 
 
 wasted cheek — 
 From all a closer interest flour- 
 
 ish'd up, 
 Tenderness touch by touch, and 
 last, to these, 
 100 Love, like an Alpine harebell 
 hung with tears 
 By some cold morning glacier; 
 
 frail at first 
 And feeble, all unconscious of it- 
 self. 
 But such as gather'd color day by 
 day. 
 
 Last I woke sane, but well-nigh 
 close to death 
 
 For weakness: it was evening: 
 
 silent light 
 Slept on the painted walls, where- 
 in 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 
 The forum, and half-crush'd ik 
 
 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 
 
 Roman scowls. 
 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 
 Sweet Ida: palm to palm she sat: 12 
 
 the dew 
 Dwelt in her eyes, and softer all 
 
 her shape 
 And rounder seem'd: I moved; I 
 
 sigh'd: a touch 
 Came round my wrist, and tears 
 
 upon my hand: 
 Then all for languor and self-pity 
 
 ran 
 
 9 A law enacted at Rome on the 
 approach of Hannibal, that no woman 
 should wear gay colored dresses, nor 
 more than a half ounce of gold, nor ride in 
 a carriage in the city or within a mile of 
 it ; afterward repealed, only upon the 
 revolt of the women who harassed the 
 magistrates. 
 
PART VII , 
 
 85 
 
 Mine down my face, and with 
 
 what hfe I had. 
 And Hke 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: 
 
 !o "If you be, what I think you, 
 some sweet dream, 
 
 1 would but ask you to fulfil your- 
 self; 
 
 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. 
 
 Stoop down and seem to kiss me 
 ere I die.' 
 
 I could no more, but lay like 
 
 one in trance. 
 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 paused; 
 (o She stoop'd; and out of languor 
 
 leapt a cry; 
 Leapt fiery Passion from the 
 
 brinks of death; 
 And I believed that in the living 
 
 world 
 My spirit closed with Ida's at the 
 
 lips; 
 Till back I fell, and from mine 
 
 arms she rose 
 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 mould that other,* 
 
 when she came 
 From barren deeps to conquer all 
 
 with love, 
 And down the streaming crystal 150 
 
 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. 
 Stateliest, for thee! but mute she 
 
 glided forth, 
 Nor glanced 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: 
 There to herself, all in low tones, 160 
 
 she read: 
 
 Now .sleeps the crimson petal, now 
 
 the white ; 
 Nor waves the cypress in the palace 
 
 walk ; 
 Nor winks the gold fin in the porphj^ry 
 
 font : 
 The fire-fly wakens : waken thou with 
 
 me. 
 
 Now droops the milk-white peacock 
 like a ghost. 
 And like a ghoi5t she glimmers on to 
 me. 
 
 Now lies the Earth all Danae^ to the 
 stars, 
 And all thy heart lies open unto me. 
 
 Now slides the silent meteor on, 
 and leaves 
 A shining furrow, as thy thoughts in 170 
 me. 
 
 I Aphrodite rising from the sea. 
 6 CI. Diet. 
 
86 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Now folds the lily all her sweetness 
 tip, 
 And slips into the bosom of the lake ; 
 So fold thyself, my dearest, thou, and 
 
 slip. 
 Into my bosom, and be lost in me. 
 
 I heard her turn the page; she 
 found a small 
 Sweet Idyl, and once more, as 
 low, she read: 
 
 Come down, O 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 I,ove is of the valley, 
 
 come. 
 For L,ove is of the valley, come thou 
 
 down 
 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, 6 
 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 
 To roll the torrent out of dusky doors : 
 But follow ; let the torrent dance thee 
 
 down 
 To find him in the valley ; let the wild 
 l,ean-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 
 
 6 Relating to Swiss scenery with spe- 
 cial reference to the Jungfrau. 
 
 ' Cf . The Lotos Eaters. 
 
 8 Columns of smoke. 
 
 Thy shepherd pipe, and sweet is every 
 
 sound, 
 Sweeter thy voice, but every sound is 
 
 sweet ; 
 Mj^riads 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 look'd. Pale was 
 
 the periect face; 
 The .bosom with long sighs la- 21 
 
 bor'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; 
 That all her labor was but as a 
 
 block 
 Left in the quarry; but she still 
 
 were loth, 
 She still were loth to yield herself 
 
 to one 
 That wholly scorn'd to help their 
 
 equal rights 
 Against the sons of men and bar- 
 barous laws. 
 She pray'd me not to judge their 2; 
 
 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 nursed me there 
 
 from week to week: 
 Much had she learnt in little time. 
 
 In part 
 It was ill counsel had misled the 
 
 girl 
 To vex true hearts: yet was she 
 
 but a girl — 
 
PART VII. 
 
 87 
 
 'Ah fool, and made myself a queen 
 
 of farce! 
 When comes another such? 
 
 never, I think, 
 30 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 
 
 dared not break; 
 Till notice of a change in the dark 
 
 world 
 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 
 40 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: 
 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 youngio planet 
 
 in her hands — 
 
 5 \Vb. under Zodiac. 
 '° The rising generation. 
 
 If she be small, slight-natured, 
 miserable, 
 
 How shall men grow? but work 250 
 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 — 
 
 Will leave her space to burgeoni^ 
 out of all 
 
 Within her — let her make herself 
 her own 
 
 To give or keep, to live and learn 
 and be 
 
 All that not harms distinctive wo- 
 manhood. 
 
 For woman is not undevelopt 
 man. 
 
 But diverse: could we make her 260 
 as the man. 
 
 Sweet Love were slain: his dear- 
 est bond is this, 
 
 Not like to like, but like in dif- 
 ference. 
 
 Yet in the long years liker must 
 they grow; 
 
 The man be more of woman, she 
 of man ; 
 
 He gain in sweetness and in mor- 
 al 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, 
 
 Like perfect music unto noble 270 
 words; 
 
 And so these twain, upon the 
 skirts of Time, 
 
 ' ' \vb. to bud. 
 
88 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 Sit side by side, full-summ'd in 
 all their powers. 
 
 Dispensing harvest, sowing the 
 to-be, 
 
 Self-reverent each and reverenc- 
 ing each, 
 
 Distinct in individualities, 
 
 But like each other even as those 
 who love. 
 
 Then comes the statelier Eden 
 back to men; 
 
 Then reign the world's great brid- 
 als, chaste and calm; 
 
 Then springs the crowning race of 
 humankind. 
 2S0 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 
 
 Nor equal, nor unequal: each ful- 
 fils 
 
 Defect in each, and always 
 thought in thought. 
 
 Purpose in purpose, will in will, 
 they grow. 
 
 The single pure and perfect ani- 
 mal, 
 
 The two-cell'd heart beating, with 
 one full stroke, 
 290 Life.' 
 
 And again sighing she 
 spoke: 'A dream 
 
 That once was mine! what wo- 
 man taught you this?' 
 
 'Alone,' I said, 'from earlier 
 
 than I know. 
 Immersed in rich foreshadowings 
 
 of the world, 
 I loved the woman: he, that doth 
 
 not, lives 
 
 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. 
 
 Not perfect, nay, but full of ten- 30° 
 der wants. 
 
 No angel, but a dearer being, all 
 dipt 
 
 In angel instincts, breathing Para- 
 dise, 
 
 Interpreter between the Gods and 
 men. 
 
 Who look'd all native to her 
 place, and yet 
 
 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 musics- 
 Happy he 
 
 With such a mother! faith in wo- 
 mankind 
 
 Beats with his blood, and trust in 310 
 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 un- 
 like— 
 
 It seems you love to cheat your- 
 self with words: 
 
 This mother is your model. I 
 
 have heard , 
 
 Of your strange doubts: they well 
 might be; I seem 
 
 1 2 The music of the Spheres. Cf. Shakes- 
 peare, Mcht. of V. V. I, 60. 
 
PART VII. 
 
 A mockery to my own self. Nev- 
 er, Prince; 
 You cannot love me.' 
 
 'Nay. but thee,' I said, 
 'From yearlong poring on thy 
 
 pictured eyes, 
 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 rev- 
 erence up, and forced 
 Sweet love on pranks of saucy 
 
 boyhood: now. 
 Given back to life, to life indeed, 
 
 thro' thee. 
 Indeed I love: the new day 
 
 comes, the light 
 Dearer for night, as dearer thou 
 
 for faults 
 Lived over: 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, 
 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 mist-like into this bright 
 
 hour, and this 
 Is morn ^3 j-q more, and all the 
 
 rich to-come 
 Reels, 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! O we will walk 
 
 this world, 
 Yoked in all exercise of noble 340 
 
 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; 
 Lay thy sweet hands in mine and 
 
 trust to me.' 
 
 '3 Refers to the seeming undulation of 
 the landscape as clouds of smoke and 
 heated air pass over it.' 
 
CONCLUSION 
 
 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, 
 'I wish she had not yielded!' then 
 
 to me, 
 'What if you drest it up poetic- 
 ally!' 
 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 required that I should 
 
 give throughout 
 The sort of mock-heroic gigan- 
 
 tesque.i 
 With which we banter'd little 
 
 Lilia first; 
 The women — and perhaps they 
 
 felt their power, 
 For something in the ballads 
 
 which they sang. 
 Or in their silent influence as they 
 
 sat, 
 Had ever seem'd to wrestle with 
 
 burlesque. 
 And drove us, last, to quite a sol- 
 emn close — 
 They hated banter, wish'd for 
 
 something real, 
 A gallant fight, a noble princess — 
 
 why 
 ' wb 
 
 Not make her true-heroic — true- 20 
 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 real- 
 ists; 
 
 And I, betwixt them both, to 
 please them both, 
 
 And yet to give the story as it 
 rose, 
 
 I rnoved as in a strange diagonal, 
 
 And maybe neither pleased my- 
 self nor them. 
 
 But Lilia pleased me, for she took 
 
 no part 
 In our dispute: the sequel of the 3° 
 
 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, 
 For she was cramm'd with the- 
 ories out of books. 
 But that there rose a shout: the 
 
 gates were closed i. 
 
 At sunset, and the crowd were 
 
 swarming now, 
 To take their leave, about the 
 
 garden rails. 
 
CONCLUSION. 
 
 91 
 
 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 there a 
 
 rustic tower 
 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, 
 Imagined 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 ofif, 
 And keeps our Britain, whole 
 
 within herself, 
 A nation yet, the rulers and the 
 
 ruled — 
 Some sense of duty, something of 
 
 a faith, 
 Some reverence for the laws our- 
 selves have made. 
 Some patient force to change 
 
 them when we will. 
 Some civic manhood firm against 
 
 the crowd — 
 But yonder,-"* whifif! there comes 
 
 a sudden heat. 
 The gravest citizen seems to lose 
 
 his head, 
 
 - A designation of one of the two great 
 political parties in England, now known 
 as the Conservatives. 
 
 3 France. 
 
 The king is scared, the soldier 60 
 
 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; 
 Revolts, republics, revolutions, 
 
 inost 
 No 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 
 As some of theirs — God bless the 7° 
 
 narrow seas!^ 
 I wish they were a whole At- 
 lantic broad.' 
 
 'Have patience,' I replied, 'our- 
 selves are full 
 
 Of social wrong; and maybe wild- 
 est dreams 
 
 Are but the needful preludes of 
 the truth: 
 
 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.' 
 
 In such discourse we gain'd the 80 
 garden rails, 
 
 "The straits of Dover. 
 
 5 Cf. the Poet's prophecv with the lines 
 48-52, part VI. 
 
92 
 
 THE PRINCESS. 
 
 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 
 
 No little lily-handed baronet he, 
 
 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 chari- 
 ties, 
 
 A pamphleteer on guano and on 
 grain, 
 90 A quarter-sessions chairman, ab- 
 ler none; 
 
 Fair-hair'd and redder than a 
 windy morn; 
 
 Now shaking hands with him, 
 now him, of those 
 
 That stood the nearest — now ad- 
 dress'd to speech — 
 
 Who spoke few words and pithy, 
 such as closed 
 
 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 
 
 6 Pineapples. 
 
 7 Refering to a flight of rooks, rather 
 than to the rookery home. 
 
 Beyond the bourn of sunset; O, a 100 
 
 shout 
 More joyful than the city-roar 
 
 that hails 
 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, 
 I likewise, and in groups they 
 
 stream'd away. 
 
 But we went back to the Ab- 
 bey, 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 
 Blacken'd about tis, bats wheel'd, no 
 
 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. 
 Beyond all thought into the 
 
 Heaven of Heavens. 
 
 Last little Lilia, rising quietly. 
 Disrobed the glimmering statue 
 
 of Sir Ralph 
 From those rich'' silk^, and home 
 
 well-pleased we went. 
 
 9Cf. Prol. line 103. 
 
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